Unhinged
by Saiyasha Misamurai
Summary: When Claire visits Africa to investigate the death of two TerraSave members, she discovers a horrifying truth: Albert Wesker is alive. As a new outbreak rises, all of the evidence points to him. But Claire knows all too well... things are never so simple.
1. Chapter 1

_**This chapter has been updated. If a chapter has not been updated, it will not have this message at the top. Beware of non-updated chapters, they may contain plot inconsistencies.**_

**Games + Degeneration universe. No movies. Sorry it's been so long, guys! Here's my attempt at a re-launch. Hope it looks better now than it did two years ago! :)**

Nights in Africa can grow surprisingly frigid, it was becoming abundantly clear. The light of the moon could be glimpsed through the clouds only slightly, to the dismay of two silhouettes pacing slowly alongside a decimated landmark- Mount Kijuju. These two were members of the American non-profit organization TerraSave, which had sent aid to Kijuju and its surrounding region following several recent incidents of bio-terror.

"Why are we even looking? What's so damn important we gotta dig it right back up again?"

"Those people were infected. We need to learn as much as we can, don't we?."

They and their teammates had been assigned to sift through the ash in an attempt to recover the bodies of any victims of the incident. Which, in truth, was an honest endeavor. The information most keenly pursued by the BSAA, however and unbeknownst to the mission's executors, was the fate of Albert Wesker.

"Whatever caused all this shit is better off _staying_ buried."

"Orders are orders."

"Yeah, yeah…"

A few moments of silence followed as the pair shuffled onward. Little was expected of the search effort; everyone was certain that nothing, not even a biologically enhanced human, could survive at the intense temperatures the volcano had achieved. As far as anyone who knew the details were concerned, Wesker had departed from this world in a lake of fire. And if there was such a thing as God, his immortal soul would be plunged into another. Be it wishful or realistic thinking, the fact remained that the survival of anything in the chaos of three weeks prior was doubtful, at best.

"So how's that girlfriend of yours? Tell your wife, yet?"

"Oh, don't start with that 'holier than thou' crap. I'm not in the mood today." Consumed by their idle chatter, they didn't notice the pile of rocks they'd just passed had been quivering.

Several pieces of rubble tumbled aside, and a single, bloody hand rose from the earth. The dry clinking of igneous in the breezy silence of the dark was enough to draw their attention, "What was that? You kick somethin'?" One man's flashlight fell onto a scene neither men could fully comprehend.

Albert Wesker slowly pulled himself away from his entombment in what was once molten lava. His flesh was blackened in places, and completely burnt away in others, revealing muscles and even bone. Blood did not seep from his wounds, but instead a substance much akin to oil. It wrapped around his flesh tactically, giving some semblance of intelligence within the design of this broken, feral creature.

As he came to a stance, the red glint of his eyes flicked to the men before him. He sized them up, determining the threat they posed. TerraSave. Radios. There was potential for disaster in their ability to communicate. He'd have to fix that.

A sudden and intense pain assaulted his abdomen; it didn't take him long to realize he was in the late phases of starvation. Though the parasite within him had restored his body and some of his strength, he was in desperate need of food.

_Food…_

As the word entered his mind, a disturbing impulse overwhelmed him.

He, Albert Wesker, was not currently in control of his body. He had the acute sensation that the things he was witnessing were happening to someone else. He felt distant; somewhat disconnected from himself.

A growl came that belonged to him but he did not command it. It was a curious thing- an out-of-body experience? Was what he was seeing, hearing, even real? Something which he _knew_ did not belong to him, a long, snake-like appendage formed from the oily tendrils covering his forearm reached out and gripped one man by the throat.

He gagged grotesquely and fought desperately to free himself from the choking hold until a dull crack came from his neck and he fell limp. "Oh, God..." the other said in disbelief. He was sure he was drunk again. Maybe just passed out after playing cards wit the guys. Yeah, sure. He'd wake up screaming with everyone looking at him like he was crazy and life would go on.

Wesker's attention was on him now. It didn't take much- a quick strike through the skull, cracking it open like a walnut -and the man was down, not even able to realize he'd died.

The grey matter of the second man's brain struck him as extremely alluring and, all the while assuring himself that this was not truly him, he observed with morbid fascination as he devoured every consumable inch of both bodies.

_What day is it? _briefly occurred to him. _Where is this?_

He retreated from the carcasses, only vaguely aware he was naked and cold. He sucked in a breath and steadied his rampaging head. He underwent an odd sensation... as though he was only now able to settle into his body. Whatever had possessed him had receded and with this realization he flexed one hand, watched the sickly black veins protrude from his skin, rolled onto all fours with a violent convulsion, and promptly vomited.

The seizure wracked him for seconds, minutes, he couldn't tell. When it was finally over he curled in a fetal manner briefly, catching his breath and calming his rapid heartbeat. It took him far too long for his liking to recover.

Only when he was lucid enough to situate himself, did he notice he was numb from the chill. His eyes darted around suspiciously, and he spotted a glow in the distance; lights from a BSAA camp nearby. It was those lights which returned him to his senses; he suddenly remembered the events of the weeks prior to his imprisonment in the earth. He recalled his 'death', and the name responsible for it all.

His lip up-turned in a snarl as the image of his adversary appeared in his mind.

"Chris…"

* * *

_Two years later…_

Claire dropped her backpack on Chris' couch. She looked in dread at her massive workload; three term papers due by Monday in English, History, and World Politics. Was there anything worse?

She dismissed the myriad of circumstances which occurred to her in response to her rhetoric and looked around the living room. The only light in the entire apartment was peeking through the blinds from outside. Claire switched a table lamp on and pulled her history textbook out of her bag.

"Okay," she said to herself, settling cross-legged on the couch, "three key mistakes Hitler made toward the end of World War II…"

She bit the end of her pen; all of the words in her book seemed to blend together.

"Oh… I'm not up for this!" she moaned, falling backward. She was barely aware of the sound of feet tapping up wooden steps outside. When Chris opened the door and saw his sister on his couch, he smiled.

"Getting a lot of work done?" He asked, stepping inside and shutting the door.

"I wish. I'm pretty sure my professors think I have no life outside the classroom," she said bitterly.

"Well, I hate to rub it in, but you kind of don't…" he said sheepishly. It was true; she was a full-time student. She spent all of her time off campus either studying or doing homework. She rarely slept anymore, and Chris was constantly worrying about her. "Oh, and I saw you pull in. You hit the parking bumper."

"I know... An all-nighter is a good way to screw with your depth-perception." She pinched the bridge of her nose.

"You know, Claire, getting your degree by next summer is a nice goal and all, but maybe you should think about lightening your class-load next quarter. Maybe even take a break," Chris suggested. He walked past her and into the kitchen, pulling out a can of soda and pouring it into a glass.

Claire only snorted, "Please; I'd planned to have my degree already. It's not my fault it's taken so long; fate just doesn't want me to graduate 'till I'm forty."

"You seem to be doing okay," her brother replied. He handed her the glass.

"If you really thought that, you wouldn't try sneaking me sleeping pills." Claire held the glass over her head and raised an eyebrow.

He heaved a resigned sigh, "You need rest, Claire."

"I _need _to graduate. I'll get all of the sleep in the world once I have a degree under my belt."

"That isn't good for you, you know."

"I know. I'll get some sleep after I get some research done, 'kay? Speaking of which, do you think you could help me out with my homework?"

He grabbed a can for himself and shut the fridge, "I can try. Let's see what you've got." He took a seat and peered at her book.

"World War II? Alright; what do you have to do?"

"I have to explain three mistakes Hitler made near the end of the war."

"That's easy; he was a bad guy, he was a hypocrite, and he pissed off the Russians."

"That's brilliant, Chris. Now if I could just stretch that into fourteen pages I'll be good to go," she remarked. Her brother stared at her.

"_Fourteen_? You weren't kidding."

Claire nodded, "That's child's play compared to my English final, and I've got three more projects here, all due Monday."

"You know, if you hadn't decided to take on _five classes _this quarter, you'd probably be okay."

"So I'm trying to get ahead; what's wrong with that? Besides, one of those is once-a-week and two are online. Are you going to help, or is your plan just to patronize me?"

"Relax; let me see that book." Chris snatched it out of her lap and started reading. Claire watched patiently until he set it down.

"Well?" she asked expectantly. Chris gave her a dumb look.

"I have no idea what the hell I just read. Who wrote this; Stephen King?"

He shut the book and stood, watching his sister's head drop in exasperation.

"What would I ever do without you?" she said, stealing her book back and reaching for her notepad, "Maybe Jill can help me later."

Chris, who had just started toward the bathroom, stopped and turned. "How do you know Jill's coming today?" he asked. _He _wasn't even sure of that.

"Oh, come on; you mean you don't know?"

"Know what?"

"She's _into _you! All those excuses she makes for coming over? She's just hoping at some point that you'll buck up and kiss her."

"_What_?"

"You heard me," Claire replied, not looking up from her work.

"You're crazy."

"Whatever you say…" she said in a quiet singsong. Chris shook his head and continued into the bathroom.

Claire quickly looked up, "And Stephen King _isn't _boring!" she added indignantly.


	2. Chapter 2

_**This chapter has been updated. If a chapter has not been updated, it will not have this message at the top. Beware of non-updated chapters, they may contain plot inconsistencies.**_

_Six months later…_

Claire pulled into the driveway of her brother's new home; the one both she and Jill had been harassing him to buy ever since he got promoted.

He was still a field agent, but he'd been placed on leave for his PTSD treatments. Of course, the prospect of doing nothing was more horrifying to Chris than anything else, and he insisted he keep working. Yates made him a handler; he was to communicate with agents in the field, process their requests, talk them through situations, things like that. He wouldn't see combat, but he'd still be helping with the action. He liked that. And it paid well.

One look at the house and she knew something was up. The driveway had no room for anything larger than her own bike; there were three cars in it, and four more parked along the street out front.

"Oh, Chris," Claire sighed, smiling. Her report cards were due in the mail sometime this week; she had just finished what she hoped to be her final quarter at the university. She made him promise he wouldn't open her grades until she was there, but that doesn't mean he hadn't jumped the gun and thrown a graduation party. Settling her bike on its kickstand, she pulled off her helmet and walked up the porch steps.

Upon entering the house, she was greeted by the distinct scent of char and a fire alarm dangling from the ceiling with its batteries removed. Claire quickly deduced Chris had been cooking. The kitchen was quiet though, and from the window she could spot her brother grilling with Jill at his side. She could smell the merriment mingled with the beef and knew there were more happy, drunken souls in the yard than the two she could see.

She'd removed her leather jacket and fixed her ponytail. There was nothing more to do; it looked like she was just going to have to bite the bullet and get out there.

"Hey, Claire!" Chris waved a spatula at her, a tell-tale pile of what appeared to be baked potatos wrapped in tin foil on a paper plate. They were blackened where they weren't exploded. Barry was sitting at a cast-iron table with his wife and two daughters. Rebecca was there too, and she was talking with-

"_Leon!_" she shouted, running toward him and laughing. When she left the porch, however, an unmistakable voice sounded from somewhere nearby.

"Bombs away!" she heard the shout but failed to respond quick enough; from above an ungodly sensation overcame her- the bitter cold of ice water. She braced the flood with her shoulders hunched and her head bent forward. The shock she suffered from only lasted a few moments, and was soon replaced by uncontrollable chills.

Claire turned and looked up; Carlos and Billy were on the roof, each holding a decent-sized bucket.

"Hiya, Claire!" Billy waved with his free hand.

"Hey, guys…" she said, rather lack-luster. She shivered and covered her arms in breeze. She was suddenly very glad she'd taken off her jacket.

"Here, sis," Chris walked up from behind and draped a towel over her shoulder, "Oh, and by the way; Happy Graduation!"

As if suddenly remembering why they were there, everyone chorused the words.

* * *

"So, whose brilliant idea was this?" Claire asked, drying her hair. She'd taken a seat in a plastic lawn chair.

"If you mean the party, then you can thank Chris," Barry answered.

"And the water?"

"_That _was Carlos." Claire looked over at the porch and saw her two assailants making their way to the ground. She shot Carlos an accusatory look, to which he simply shrugged.

"What can I say? I'm just a mean guy, I guess."

She shook her head in exasperation. The towel lifted away from her and in it's placed dropped a heavy leather coat. She looked up to see Leon.

"It's a little warmer than a soaked washcloth," he gave her the grin he almost always did. She smiled in thanks.

"Yo! Where's the food?" Carlos jogged over to where Chris and Jill stood. "Here," Jill said, and shoved a burnt potato in his face.

"Gack- Ow!" he coughed and sputtered, turning away and wiping off the mushy spud.

"Don't forget Billy's!" Rebecca shouted, and Jill grabbed another one.

"Not. Cool." Billy complained, able to sound nonchalant despite his surprise. When Jill took a step forward he ran to the side of the house and hopped the chain-link fence into the neighbor's yard. "Oh, _shit!" C_laire broke into hysterical giggles when Billy returned suddenly, red in the face and huffing after catching a glimpse of the neighbor's Great Dane.

Claire looked away from the scene with a stupid smirk on her face. Leon had taken a seat across from her; he was still staring after Billy. "So what brings you to town?" she asked.

"Ah, you know. This and that. And Chris called me to tell me about the party. I hadn't even known you'd gone off to college."

"Yeah. With, um... _everything else, _I got a little caught up and never actually got a chance to finish school." They both pretended that 'everything else' was something unspoken, and not unspeakable. It made it easier on all of them when they could pretend that their deep dark secret wasn't so deep or so dark. Still, no one ever really talked about the old days.

"Well, you got a four year degree in two-and-a-half. That's impressive."

"Hear, hear!" Barry contributed, briefly raising a beer in salute before turning back to his daughter.

Claire turned a little pink at the attention and tried to shrug it off, "I certainly had a lot of motivation. Being able to transfer my credits from, like, fourteen years ago didn't hurt either."

"I'd imagine," Leon nodded.

"Well hey; is this normal enough for you?" she asked, referring to their previous face-to-face conversation. The recollection made her think of Angela for a moment, and she wondered whether she should ask Leon if they ever did go "diving". In the end she decided against it. Not her place to know.

"Definitely," he answered her question cheerily. Claire had to wonder if, before now, she'd _ever _encountered Leon in a 'normal' setting and realized that no, she hadn't.

"Burgers!" Chris called out.

"...For anyone who cares to risk this guy's culinary expertise," Jill added, nudging him playfully with her elbow. Everyone stopped what they were doing and lined up for dinner.

"What's with the party, anyway? Did you peek at my grades, Chris?" Claire asked, holding out a paper plate. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Not at all. I've got 'em right here, though," he pulled a big envelope from inside his jacket and held it to her. As she reached for it, Claire suddenly realized how nervous she really was.

"Oh, right! Claire, you gotta tell us- sad burgers or happy burgers?" Carlos inquired in his own, eloquent manner.

She stared at the black font which read her name. It was the moment of truth. Everyone had crowded around her and was peeking over her shoulder, except for Chris, who was standing with his arms crossed and a confident smirk on his face.

Claire slowly tore the envelope open and pulled a thick wad of papers out. She unfolded them and looked at the first page. The first and only word she saw was "_Congratulations!"_

She closed her eyes and sighed, her headache was over.

Everyone was cheering now. There were 'whoop!'s and 'way to go's, and Barry even tagged in a cheesy, 'you done good, kid.' The papers seemed to vanish from her fingers as the ravenous mob behind her fought to get a clear look.

As the group wrestled, Chris walked up and hugged her.

"You did it, Claire," he said. She grinned over his shoulder. She _had _done it, hadn't she?

* * *

Now that her college days were over, Claire had made the decision to return to her job at TerraSave. It had been nearly three years since she took her break, and at that moment there was no better thought to her than returning to the field.

Entering her office, she held her nose at the dust which had gathered there. It was going to be hell on earth, cleaning this place, but someone had to do it. She wanted to speak with Charlie before she got too involved with her office; if she was doing any dusting, vacuuming, or the like, she'd be doing it on the clock. On the other hand, she was feeling a bit nostalgic. She opted to peek around. Everything was about the same as she'd left it, except a massive stack of papers piled on her chair. They were a series of case files she assumed had been placed there by Charlie- probably things he'd wanted her opinion on but not important enough for him to bother calling her about.

One binder to a case file. It was a simple system, if a bit primitive. Feeling it was a bit early for any heavy reading, she sorted through the pile to get an idea of her workload when she found a binder she thought empty.

She peeked curiously, and discovered that there was, in fact, a report to be read. An incredibly small one, but it was there. It was a report filed on the disappearance and eventual discovery of the remains of a couple of scouts dispatched to investigate the aftermath of the Kijuju incident. What was left of the bodies had been taken back to a BSAA camp for an autopsy, which revealed that the two had been devoured. The file contained very little information; just the autopsy report and a couple of short biographies on the victims. As she tried to puzzle out the case in her mind, she found herself starved for information.

When she initially saw the contents, her mind immediately turned to zombies. The report indicated that whatever had attacked the two men had been sentient. However, when she reviewed the photographs and realized the extent of the damage, she retracted her suspicions. She'd never encountered any case of a zombie successfully devouring a human body in its entirety; the victims always reanimated well before that point. Could this be the work of a mutant?

She decided it was time to pay her boss a visit.

* * *

Charlie Theimen's office door was wide open; boxes were piled everywhere Claire looked, so she almost missed the tall man ducked under his desk.

"Where the hell did I-" the man's muffled voice began. All Claire could glimpse was his rear-end still hanging onto the edge of his chair. He was doubled over, apparently searching for something.

"Charlie," Claire made her presence known. The moment she said his name, a large _thump! _came from his direction.

"Ack- Goddamnit!" he cursed, clutching the back of his head. He slid his chair back and righted himself, "Who the hell-" He stopped when he saw Claire, who was leaning against his doorframe with her arms crossed and an amused look on her face.

"Redfield!" He said, surprised, "I didn't know you were coming back today! How was college?" He seemed to forget his head.

"Send me to Africa," she said in a serious tone. Her boss gave her a curious look.

"What's going on?"

Claire maneuvered her way around boxes to reach his desk, where she tossed the case file. She began talking as Charlie picked it up.

"This was in my office when I came in this morning."

"I must've left thirty files at your desk-"

"In my _chair."_

"Whatever. I take it you found something interesting in this one?"

"I did. Or maybe I should say the _l__ack _of something."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Read it for yourself."

"Okay," he flipped through the papers. "Wait; where's the rest of it?" He peeked inside the folds, as if some papers were hiding.

"That's what I said. Where are the psych evals? Statements from possible witnesses? Investigative speculation? They don't even have standard info here!"

"I can see that..." Charlie put on his glasses and looked at the photos. "I remember these. I requested Fisk oversee the investigation personally. I'll have to ask him about this."

"Charlie, with all due respect, I think this goes a little beyond professional misconduct."

"You mean-" Charlie pinched the bridge of his nose. "Redfield, you've only been back a few hours. Maybe you should wait a while before starting up an internal investigation."

"Come on; I'm ready to work!"

"Claire-"

"Charlie, if I'm right, then the worst mistake you could make is to ignore this! Those photos seem to merit an investigation all on their own. I don't think this is something we can afford to let lie; send me in."

They held eye contact for a few seconds, a battle of willpower. The middle-aged supervisor sighed and looked back at the case file- he'd seen Claire this way before. He never won when she wanted something bad enough.

"I'll talk to Fisk and Moore, see what they have to say. I can't promise anything."

"That's all I can ask," she snatched her file back. "But I know how convincing you can be," she winked and headed for her office.

"Hey," he stopped her, and she paused. "What exactly do you think is going on?"

She shrugged, "I couldn't say. But I really want to know." And she was gone, disappeared down the hallway to get some business of her own done.

Her boss shook his head, "Just got back and here she is barking orders." He chuckled to himself; she was certainly a spit-fire. He was glad to have her as an ally, quite honestly. She had played a key role in the Umbrella trials, and the game-face she wore during each and every one was enough to reduce many of those executives and researchers to puddles.

With the dismissal of this thought he came to another- what was happening at BSAA-Africa? He knew Fisk, he was a good man. He was the only one Yates, Moore, (two other high-ranking officials in the war on bio-terrorism) and himself trusted with the position. The situation in Africa was tricky business, and they'd needed someone who wouldn't aggravate the government or the locals. Fisk was an afro-american war veteran, fluent in Swahili, French and English (having been raised in America by a family from Cote d'Ivoire) and was extremely loyal to both his country and the anti-bio terror sentiment. He was the ideal candidate. It was hard to believe anything could go awry under his watch.

He hoped that whatever Claire might find, if anything at all, it wouldn't implicate Tyler. It would be a tragedy, to say the least.

* * *

Claire was donned in attire suitable for the HazMat division, with the exception of the white Windex squirt bottle in one hand and filthy rag in the other. She'd just tackled her windows and was amazed at the difference.

"A _gorgeous_ view of the parking lot," she remarked satirically to herself.

A knock came from her open door. "Hey, look at that! I can see you in the reflection of my window, Chuck."

"You're not getting paid for cleaning up. Why don't you just let the custodians do their jobs?"

"Anywhere but my office, Charlie. I'm a very particular girl."

"Yeah, don't remind me." He took a seat in the armchair next to her bookshelf. "So I've put you back on the ledger, which means you're on-call. Also, you need to take a re-evaluation exam before I can get you cleared for Africa. Shouldn't take more than forty minutes."

Claire removed her ear-loop mask and sent her boss a confident smile, "I knew you could do it."

Charlie rolled his eyes. She was one of few people who could ever get away with such a cocky attitude toward him. "Just make sure you keep in _regular contact_ when you get over there."

She gave a two-finger salute, "Will do!" and tugged her gloves off with her teeth. "I could use a coffee. Feel like catching up?"


	3. Chapter 3

**_This chapter has been updated. If a chapter has not been updated, it will not have this message at the top. Beware of non-updated chapters, they may contain plot inconsistencies._ **

**Mistakes, rushing, more mistakes… I know my fic isn't perfect, but for now I'm just updating. I'll edit later.**

"Isn't this a bit sudden?" Chris asked. He was following Claire around her apartment as she packed. She was leaving in a few days, and had just told her brother the news.

"You sound like Charlie," Claire said passively. She entered her bedroom and pulled a backpack out of her closet.

"I just think you should give it some time; let yourself get into the swing of things."

"And give rise to another bio-terror incident?"

"So let someone else go. It's not like _you _have to."

"_Someone _has to go. It might as well be me as anyone else."

"Exactly! Send someone else!"

"I'm supposed to send someone on an unexpected trip to Africa simply because I haven't gotten _into the swing of things_?" She hadn't filled him in on the details. As far as anyone knew, this was a routine evaluation of TerraSave members. That _was _part of Claire's designation, after all.

Actually, Claire, Charlie, Elaine Moore and Gunther Yates were the _only _ones who knew her real motive for visiting Africa. Charlie made Claire promise not to tell anyone, including Chris, fearing the word might get out and the investigation blown. If there was corruption, within the BSAA or TerraSave, they couldn't afford the risk of tipping anyone off; not until there was enough proof to bring them to light.

"No, I mean- that's not how it's supposed to sound!" Chris plopped himself on her bed. Claire was rummaging through the contents of her pack - it was still full of old books and papers from school.

"Chris, I know you're worried, but this is my _job_, and I want to do it. If it'll make you feel any better, I'll be at a BSAA camp."

Chris sighed and looked down; the argument wasn't going anywhere.

"Okay, okay. Just promise you'll call every day?"

"Now you _really _sound like Charlie."

"Claire…" her brother said in a warning tone.

"Don't worry Chris; of course I will," she answered reassuringly. She up-turned her bag and shook everything out. Soon her already-messy floor was covered with random papers, books, and writing utensils.

"Slob," Chris remarked. Claire pushed his leg.

"You're one to talk. At least I don't leave food in my room," she stuck her tongue out.

Her brother started laughing.

"Claire, you're thirty years old and acting like a first-grader!"

"I'm thirty-three," Claire corrected sourly, "And you _don't _need to remind me."

Chris laughed even harder now. If there was anything in the world he loved, it was to harass his sister mercilessly about her aging, from pointing out wrinkles that weren't there, to taking a silver sharpie to one of her bangs in the night and waiting for her inevitable scream the next morning.

"Stop laughing at me!" Claire pouted. When he wouldn't listen, she grabbed one of her pillows and whammed him over the head.

"Ow!" he complained. "You asked for it!" He grabbed a pillow for himself and started for Claire. She scrambled out of the way before he could bring it down on her; it hit the floor with a _fwump_.

"Ha!" she called out victoriously, throwing a stuffed bear at him.

He swatted it out of the air and launched his pillow at her. She caught it and threw it back, hitting him in the shoulder. "Stop trying to destroy my room!" she shouted as she rushed to the hallway.

"After you!" Chris called back, picking up the cushion again and throwing it after her. He missed and hit the light switch.

Claire squeaked in mock fear, exaggeratingly ducking his attack. She felt for the pillow just inside the door and prepared to return it when she realized Chris wasn't laughing anymore.

"Chris?" she flipped the switch, "Are you okay?"

He appeared dazed, sitting on his knees in the middle of her floor. Sweat glistened on his brow.

"Oh, no. Okay; Chris?" she spoke in the calmest voice she could muster, walking toward him slowly. His attacks were growing less frequent, but they were always unnerving. She rested her hands on his shoulders; he jumped lightly at her touch.

"Chris, it's just me, okay? You're alright. Do you want me to take you home now?"

"N-no. Not yet." He swallowed, "Just give me a minute. I'll be fine."

"Okay," she conceded, embracing him. She gently patted his head, rocking him back and forth, doing her best to soothe his racing heart.

* * *

It was only a matter of time now.

Albert Wesker leaned back in his chair, silently observing the computer monitor. His plans were just beginning to fall into motion.

He'd taken this most recent opportunity to leave the 'Organization', just as he'd done to Umbrella all those years before. He'd made sure they thought he was dead; though they were good at covering their tracks, they couldn't manage all of them, and soon the BSAA would have them cornered. It was better that he got out when he did.

His infection, however, wasn't doing much to help him at the moment. It had saved his life, true, but its flaws were beginning to get on his nerves. If he thought of Chris too much, for example, his adrenaline would spark a reaction from the parasite and he'd black out, awaking later only to find he'd destroyed everything around him.

He'd have to order supplies, but he wasn't sure if contacting 'S' would be safe for the moment. As he contemplated his next move, a loud knock came at the door.

He had been residing in the basement of an abandoned hospital just outside Kijuju for the past few months. He'd changed locations every couple of months to avoid detection, but the entire time he hadn't left the general area; he could take care of all his business in Africa while keeping an eye on the BSAA, making certain they didn't become too large of a problem.

He switched his monitor over to the security camera; a man in a BSAA uniform was standing outside. Wesker unlocked the door from his computer and waited patiently for the man to descend the steps and turn the corner.

"I didn't call you here, Nelson. What do you want?"

The man was obviously intimidated by Wesker's front, but approached him anyway, his arm extended with an envelope in his hand. Wesker took it from him.

"I just thought you might want to know; we're getting a visitor on Sunday. Everything I could find was in there," he nodded at the parcel.

"Is there anything more?" Wesker asked. This man would have to be killed soon; he made a habit of taking risky trips from the camp to Wesker's hideouts.

"Not yet."

"Then leave."

"Y-yes, sir." Wesker watched the man turn. He waited until the door shut before opening the package. His eyes flared when he saw the contents.

"So… Miss Redfield. What an interesting opportunity," Wesker commented to himself. He suddenly had his next move.

* * *

_BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!_

Claire wrinkled her nose and blinked her eyes groggily. An obnoxious alarm had pulled her away from a pleasant dream.

The clock read 4:30. "Oh, come on. It's Sunday…" Claire mumbled, hitting the snooze and rolling over. Stupid work schedule. Why couldn't the clock figure out it wasn't a weekday?

Nearly an hour later, she shot out of bed.

"It's Sunday!" she yelled, hauling herself off her brother's couch and launching into the bathroom.

"Crap!"

She tossed on the clothes nearest to her before scrambling down the hall. She'd crashed at Chris' place to bum a ride to the airport.

"Chris, get up!" she hit his door as she ran into the kitchen, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. She tossed a couple of hot dogs into the microwave and ran by Chris' door again.

"Get up! Up!" she shouted, running back to the living room and pulling her luggage into the hall.

She was hopping on one foot, shoving a shoe onto the other, when Chris finally poked his head out of his door.

"What's happening?" he mumbled sleepily.

"Get dressed! I'm going to be late!" she shouted at him, nearly falling over. It took him a couple of seconds before he realized what was going on.

"What time is it?"

"5:30!"

"Crap!" he bolted into action, shutting his door. Claire snatched his keys off the counter and started pulling her bags to the car.

Ten minutes later, he reappeared and helped her.

When all the bags were tucked neatly in the back, Claire was bouncing up and down in the passenger's seat, waiting for Chris to get in the car.

"Hang on a sec," he called and ran into the house.

"Chris! What are you doing! ?"

After a few moments he rushed out again, carrying her hot dogs.

"Don't forget these!" he said, handing them off to her through her window before jogging to the driver's seat.

"You're a lifesaver," Claire gushed, cramming the bulk of one into her mouth.

"Attractive," he said, starting the car, "Seatbelts!"

He secured his own, but Claire nearly flew through the window when he peeled out of the driveway.

She balanced the plate on her lap, putting on her seatbelt and trying to keep from choking on the food in her mouth.

"Chris, slow down! You're speeding!" Claire shrieked, unintentionally displaying her bolus to the world. The wind was rushing into the car and blowing loose strands of her hair everywhere.

"Did you remember your boarding pass?"

"It's in my backpack!"

"What about your passport?"

"It's with the boarding pass! Would you _please _slow down!"

"But you'd miss your plane!"

"Screw the plane! You're gonna kill us!" Claire gripped the handle above her head.

Chris chuckled and continued racing down the almost empty street.

* * *

Claire was standing at the front of the airport. Her hair was strewn about, and she looked ready to faint, but at least she was there.

"You're a madman," she said bitterly to her brother. He was helping her haul her things over to the check-in.

"You should have more faith in me. I'm a good driver."

Claire snorted, "You are _not _driving me home when I get back."

"Come on, Claire; it's not the worst thing I've ever done."

"I didn't say that. I actually agree with you; the worst thing you've ever done is convince me I was an alien."

"What? When did I do that?"

"That Christmas in New Hampshire when we went skiing!"

"Are you kidding? I was ten!"

"And I was four!"

When they reached the claim, people were staring.

The entire process at the airport went in a similar fashion. They bickered, and people watched. Chris pulled out some embarrassing stories about her barbie-doll phase, and when she ruined her best doll with their mother's nail polish. Claire had some equally interesting tales, like the wood chipper incident and the crush on his fourth grade teacher.

They certainly attracted plenty of attention; security was so enamored with the scene they forgot they'd been sent to quiet the pair down.

When it came time for Claire to board her plane, however, they stopped long enough to say goodbye.

"See you, Claire. Sheva will be waiting for you when you get there."

Claire nodded, "Good to know."

They were silent for a moment or two, until suddenly Claire jumped up and gave her brother a hug. He was caught off guard at first, but returned her gesture. They let go smiling.

"Be safe," he said seriously.

"Oh, come on. What could possibly go wrong?" She waved and headed for the gate. Chris smiled after her, stifling the nagging sensation in the back of his mind.

**Fun fact! When I wrote the first chapter, I had no idea what I wanted to name the story, so I let Windows default the title with the first few words I had written, which was actually different from the format you read in the first chapter. So my first chapter is stored under the title 'Claire dropped her backpack on Chris'. And that made me laugh. A lot.**

**Anyway, by the second chapter and partway into this one I still had no idea what I wanted to name the story, so I put the second chapter under the same title as the first.** **Except that Windows doesn't let you do that.**

**So I just added another 's' to the end of the title. And that's what I've been doing to all my chapters; adding an 's'. Fun to know, huh?**


	4. Chapter 4

_**This chapter has been updated. If a chapter has not been updated, it will not have this message at the top. Beware of non-updated chapters, they may contain plot inconsistencies.**_

Claire stepped out of the gate and into the terminal. Her eyes scanned the airport for her welcome party, but wasn't sure who she should be looking for. There were so many people that Claire, who'd never much minded crowds, found it hard to breathe.

As she was searching for some sort of break in the mob, she spotted a tiny piece of paper being waved above the bobbing heads of the masses. It read: Claire.

"Oh!" she felt relieved and made her way toward the paper.

"Excuse me," she said to the tall man holding her name, "Are you looking for me?"

A woman next to him addressed her, "Don't worry about Abasi; he doesn't speak English. You're Chris' sister?"

"I am. You must be Sheva."

Sheva nodded and put her arm around Claire's shoulder, "Come on; we'll help you with your things."

Claire gave a small smile and followed her lead.

She hadn't packed much; just some things she figured she'd need. However, it was still quite the load for the three of them and Abasi ended up carrying the majority of it.

There was a Jeep waiting for them outside, and Claire helped the tall man unload before hopping into the backseat. He took the seat next to Claire while Sheva got behind the wheel.

"Everyone set?" Sheva asked. Both Claire and the tall man nodded.

The ride to the camp wasn't very eventful, but that didn't mean Claire wasn't intrigued. They didn't travel through many populated areas, but what little she saw of them told her (much to her surprise) that the media's portrayal of Africa wasn't completely inaccurate. Structures made from scrap metal, bits of wood, blankets, and in some places, cardboard, housed dozens of families ill-clothed and disturbingly thin.

Her heart reached out to these people, and their desperate situation. Their country was in poor enough condition before the outbreak of a biohazard, which not only devastated the local economy surrounding Kijuju but served to make their already over-controlling government that much more paranoid.

She knew there was little she could do; taking up another cause wasn't exactly going to eliminate the threat of B.O.W.'s in the world, and she felt her attention was better suited there. Still, she desperately hoped her own mission would somehow come to benefit the people of this nation- some good fortune was long overdue.

* * *

"Not exactly the Hilton, but it should do," Sheva said. She and Claire were standing outside what was to be Claire's new home for the next few weeks; a small, brown tent just large enough to fit a small cot and a little table.

"Africa is often known for its heat, but it tends to get cold at night, so double up on your socks when you go to bed," Claire's new friend warned.

"I think that's all… oh, hang on. I'll be right back," she jogged over to a man nearby and chatted for a minute. He bent over to dig through a duffel bag at his feet and handed Sheva a small package. She handed it to Claire when she returned.

"Install this software onto your laptop, and you'll be able to connect to our network with the adapter inside," Claire inspected the cover: PalWare Ethernet Wireless Adapter, "Do you have any questions?"

Claire looked up, "When can I get started?"

Sheva laughed, "Anytime you want. What do you want to do first?"

Claire dropped her backpack on her cot, "This will be safe here?" Sheva nodded. Claire set the package on the table before turning back to her new colleague.

"I think first I want to have a word with whoever found the bodies."

* * *

"That was a long time ago, lady. I'm not sure what I can tell you," Michael Ford shrugged his shoulders.

"Anything you can remember would be helpful," Claire said, "Where were you? What had you been doing?"

"Okay; fair enough. We were at the base of the volcano. My unit was in charge of searching the landscape for any signs of Albert Wesker's remains. None of us thought we'd find anything, and our superiors didn't think so either, but we had to follow protocol. We were out there twelve hours a day, every day, for three weeks. Mind-numbing shit, I'll tell you," the man leaned back in his chair and lit a cigarette.

Claire shook her head, "Wait a minute; they were killed at the _volcano_? Why wasn't that in the report?"

"I don't know; I wasn't the one who filed it."

"Do you think you could remember where you found them exactly?"

"Lady, it was three years ago and that entire place looks exactly the same," the man complained. Suddenly, though, he seemed to pause; he let his chair touch the ground and leaned forward toward Claire.

"I think I know who could tell you though. A buddy of mine; records everything he sees. He's obsessive! I'll bet anything he got down the exact coordinates of those bodies."

"And who might this 'buddy' of yours be?" Claire leaned in.

"Ah-ah… first; if I help you out with this, is there any chance of you talking to the top-brass about sending us home early? It's been three years of the same damn shit, and I'm ready to blow my brains out. I can't last another year in this place; no way."

"I might be able to mention something," Claire nodded.

"If you would, everyone here would love you for it," Ford took a drag from his cigarette, "Buddy's name is Shawn Raye. You'll probably find him holed up in the barracks."

* * *

Wesker wasn't sure what to make of the situation. It was an investigation of some sort, but his visual was limited, and he wouldn't know anything else until Nelson showed up again.

_Fool,_ Wesker thought bitterly. He would have to wait a while before making contact with him again, or someone at the camp might get curious and start sniffing around. Of course, Claire Redfield was already doing that, and he was running out of options.

The BSAA and TerraSave members stationed at the camp might be incompetent morons, but the girl was different. She was observant, and could connect the dots if she found out more than she should. It really didn't matter if she knew he was alive so long as she was in his custody, but if she discovered the fact and talked before he could get to her, he'd have a problem. He could take care of the girl easily enough on his own, but he wasn't quite strong enough to handle an entire BSAA unit; something he'd surely encounter if he was ever found out.

Not to mention, uroboros was having adverse effects that he hadn't detected at first, and the flaws he was only now uncovering infuriated him.

His black-outs came more frequently now, and what had originally began as a simple desire for flesh had developed into a need. He'd occasionally wake up next to the remains of some random villager, and end up having to cover his tracks.

Uroboros was getting out of hand. If Wesker didn't get a grip on the situation soon, he'd wind up revealing himself. If only he could get his hands on the anti-serum, he could suppress the parasite and regain control.

He grimaced. His best option was to snatch the Redfield girl and disappear to a place where he couldn't do any damage.

He'd have to move quickly; it looked as though he'd have to resort to Nelson's aid once again.

* * *

Sheva and Claire headed down to the barracks and, just like Ford had said, they found Shawn Raye huddled in his bed, reading a textbook.

"Mr. Raye?" Claire questioned, approaching him. The man nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Go away!" he yelled in a panic. When he saw Sheva and Claire, however, he seemed to relax. "Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you were... someone else."

The two women exchanged looks; Claire spoke, "I'm from HQ. We just want to ask you a couple of questions."

"I didn't do nothing."

"No one's accusing you of anything. I actually wanted to ask you about those bodies you found three years ago."

The man seemed to lower his defenses a little, "March 18th, 2009. Dylan Howard and Roger Krauss."

"That's right," Claire nodded. Perhaps this would be easier than she thought, "I was hoping you could tell me exactly where they were."

Raye gazed at her in silence for a moment or two, then stood and opened the locker next to his bed. Inside were stacks of books and journals. Raye seemed to peer meticulously at the binding of each one. He finally paused near the bottom of one of the stacks and removed a small notebook.

He flipped through the pages, stopping on one. He handed the book to Claire, and she peered closely at a crudely drawn map. Sheva was looking over her shoulder; Claire handed her the pad in a questioning manner, but the woman shook her head.

Seeing their confusion, Raye spoke up, "I can take you there, if you want. I can remember everything about that night."

Claire looked the man over carefully; a sandy blonde, but his hair was so greasy it stuck to his head. Still, she was unable to find a reason not to accept his offer. She tossed Sheva a questioning look, to which she simply shrugged.

"Alright," Claire agreed. "Lead the way."


	5. Chapter 5

_**This chapter has been updated. If a chapter has not been updated, it will not have this message at the top. Beware of non-updated chapters, they may contain plot inconsistencies.**_

The site Raye led them to was about a mile from camp. Sheva drove them up in the jeep.

Ford had been right; everything looked exactly the same. Claire hopped out of the vehicle and looked around. The heat was blinding out here and she wished she had a hat with her.

She waited for Sheva and Raye to come around to her side of the jeep, and the two women kept close to Raye as he followed his own directions in the notebook.

After a few minutes, Raye stopped and pointed to a place on the ground, "There."

Claire looked in the direction of his gesture, but saw nothing much out of the ordinary. Claire sighed in disappointment.

"That's it?" she asked him. He nodded.

Sheva had started looking around, and, though she was pretty sure there was nothing here, Claire figured she'd better do the same. She looked closely at the ground, feeling more and more hopeless the longer she went without finding something.

They searched for about ten minutes, Claire was starting to understand better where Ford had been coming from. Finally Sheva called to her.

"Hey, Claire? Do you want to just head back? I'm pretty sure the place is empty. Whatever might've been here then, it isn't here now."

Claire sighed, "Yeah; I guess so." She started jogging toward the jeep, but her leg suddenly slid and she toppled over.

"Agh!" she cried; there was a snapping sound and Claire felt an incredible pain in her ankle. When she looked up, she noticed her entire right leg had vanished into a hollow pit.

"Claire! Are you okay!" Sheva ran to her. "Raye; give me a hand."

The man jogged over to the two women, and he and Sheva helped lift Claire gently out of the hole.

"Let's take a look," Sheva said, rolling up Claire's pant leg. She winced, and both Sheva and Raye made sympathetic noises.

"How bad is it?" Claire asked, not really sure she wanted to know.

"Pretty bad. This is worse than a sprain; I think you broke something."

Claire dropped her head; this was just perfect. She knew Charlie and Chris would be endlessly harassing her with 'I told you so's when they heard about this one.

Sheva stood and ran to the jeep; Claire watched as she dug around the back.

"Here," she said, throwing Claire an ice pack, "It should keep the swelling down until we get back."

"Right," Claire replied, her voice squeaky. Her two companions were just about to lift her into the jeep when she stopped them.

"Hang on; what is this anyway?" she asked, referring to the hole.

"It's a chasm. Gas builds up beneath the lava and stays there as it cools. They're pretty common," Raye said. Claire peered into the hole.

"Do they often happen this low on the mountain?" Claire asked. The mountain's peak was four miles uphill; it seemed like the gas would've escaped long before this point.

"Now that you mention it, this is a little rare… but not inexplicable," Raye said. He peeked into the hole curiously, "this does look a little funny, though."

"How so?" Sheva asked.

"Well, look down here; the pit's at an angle. Usually the ground over pits like these are just a couple of inches thick, but see; the angle makes the hole here a few feet below the surface."

"And that means…?"

"It seems more like something was here while the lava dried, and was removed afterward."

Claire gave him a curious look, "What might've been in here?"

Raye shrugged, "I couldn't be sure."

"What do you think, Claire?" Sheva asked her.

"I think I want my camera," Claire said.

"Sure," Sheva got it from the jeep and handed it to her.

"I'm going to need one of you to take as many pictures as you can of the inside," she said. Raye snatched the camera and bent over into the hole, snapping away, before Claire could say another word.

"Well," said Sheva, "I guess while he's doing that, I'll get you into the jeep."

She put Claire's arm over her shoulder and helped the woman hop her way to the vehicle.

When Raye was done snapping photos, Sheva handed him a canteen.

"Make sure she stays hydrated," she told him, indicating Claire.

The sun was further off into the sky than it had been when they arrived. Claire couldn't help but feel as though the entire day had been one step forward and two steps back; she'd made some progress in the case, but whatever was wrong with her ankle would be a large setback.

* * *

A torn ligament. She _tore _a _ligament_.

And she was confined to bed until further notice, doctor's orders.

Neither Chris nor Charlie had been very smug, as she'd thought; in fact, they were both appropriately empathetic.

And they were both intrigued by what she'd discovered.

She hadn't been able to reach them by phone, so she sent each of them a quick e-mail from her tent.

Both Sheva and the doctor had implored that Claire remain in the infirmary, but Claire had been adamant about returning to her tent. She could pull her own weight, even if it was only on one foot.

She slid the small table to her; her laptop was resting on it. The software Sheva gave her had already been installed, so there was nothing for Claire to do but poke through Raye's photos.

It was three o'clock in the morning and Claire was ready to fall over; she wasn't giving any of the images more than a glance now.

She desperately wanted to make some progress, but the pictures were worse than when they were at the mountain.

"Knock, knock," Sheva's voice came from outside.

"Come in," Claire said.

"Find anything?"

"Yes, actually; a miracle cure for insomnia."

Sheva laughed, " Well, frankly I think that's a good idea. Claire, get some sleep."

Claire sighed, "Yeah, I guess you're right." She closed her computer and pushed the table back to the other side of the tent.

"I'm right next door if you need anything," Sheva said, waving her hand to Claire before exiting.

Claire pulled off her left boot; the right one had been removed and replaced with a cast. She flicked off the flashlight hanging from the top of her tent and laid back onto her cot.

Ten minutes later, she sat up again. Her ankle was throbbing.

_I guess I'm not getting any sleep tonight,_ she thought bitterly. She pulled her computer onto her lap and raised the screen.

**:D**


	6. Chapter 6

_**This chapter has been updated. If a chapter has not been updated, it will not have this message at the top. Beware of non-updated chapters, they may contain plot inconsistencies.**_

He sped toward the camp silently. His task was dangerous, but leaving the Redfield girl sniffing about wasn't an option. He'd already made preparations; there were men waiting nearby, ready to transport he, his belongings, and the girl to his newest base of operations.

He'd chosen an old facility roughly nine kilometers from Kijuju; it had served as a concentration camp years ago when the area was in the midst of civil war.

There were guards everywhere; the idiot was among them. He slid out of sight, under the cover of several storage sheds. When Nelson approached, Wesker yanked him aside before anyone had even known he was there.

Nelson struggled against his captor's grip, and Wesker released him.

"Jesus!" Nelson complained, "You scared the shit out of me!"

"The visitor, Claire Redfield; where is she?" Wesker ignored him.

"Her? She's camped out with some of the up-tops from the BSAA."

"Where?" Wesker asked impatiently.

"That way," Nelson pointed behind him, "In the middle of one of those rows of tents."

Wesker looked in the direction Nelson indicated. It wasn't ideal; guards were patrolling the columns along the aisles. It wouldn't be safe for him to go in person.

He turned back to Nelson, "Bring her to the other side of the training facility."

"What? Why me!"

"You'll have a better chance of getting out without being spotted."

"You want me to kidnap her out in the open?" Nelson was incredulous.

Wesker grabbed him by the shoulder and forced him around to face the tents. "Don't let her know she's being kidnapped," he growled, and pushed the idiot out from the cover of the sheds.

Nelson whirled around to say something more, but Wesker was gone.

"Great," he muttered to himself, and started walking.

"'Don't let her know she's being kidnapped.' How the hell do you kidnap a person without them knowing about-" he paused for a moment in thought, and suddenly understood.

* * *

It was nearly five AM.

She was more tired than she'd ever been in her life, but couldn't go to sleep. Not to mention she was confined to her bed for a week, and during that time would be unable to make any real progress on the case.

And then there were the mosquitoes. No one had bothered to mention the damn mosquitoes.

"Miss Redfield?" a voice came from outside. It wasn't Sheva's.

"Yes?"

"Our camp supervisor has just returned from one of our outposts. He learned of your arrival today and wishes to meet you."

Claire looked at her watch tiredly, "At 4:45 in the morning?"

"I'm sorry ma'am; he's very busy. You can postpone if you like, but he's preparing to leave again soon and won't be back for several days," Nelson was sweating bullets.

Claire sighed. It's not like she was getting anything else done, "No; I'll go. Just give me a minute."

She slipped on her left boot and reached for her crutches. Outside, Nelson raised an eyebrow at her cast; he hadn't known she'd been injured.

"Please follow me," he said, not giving her the chance to notice his surprise. He turned on his heel and led the way.

* * *

"His office is in the annex just beyond the facility, here," Nelson was saying. The two were walking along the length of the building.

"Right," Claire said, struggling to keep up with the man.

When they rounded the corner, however, she saw no annex.

"Hey; what's going-" she started, but was cut off when her face met the barrel of a revolver.

"Good work, Nelson," A voice came from behind. She turned to ice when she heard it; though it had been nearly fifteen years, the identity of the speaker was unmistakable.

"Wesker...?" she gasped, turning to face him. She tried to scream, but a gloved hand clamped firmly over her mouth and forced her against the wall. Her crutches fell over, and all that escaped from her mouth was a muffle.

She struggled, but his grip was firm.

"You can go," she heard him say to the man. The soldier nodded respectfully at Wesker before retreating.

Claire watched in terror as Wesker pulled something from a pack on his side, "I'm sorry, dear heart, but this is necessary."

At his words, Claire felt a pinch in her neck and realized Wesker was injecting her with something. That thought made her burn; she beat against his chest with both hands, violently combating whatever fate he intended.

He seemed to chuckle in amusement at her feeble resistance; she might as well have been fighting a brick wall for all the damage she did. She felt her blows growing weaker, and her lids were getting heavy. After a few seconds she collapsed against his hand, unconscious.

**DundundundunDONE!**


	7. Chapter 7

_**This chapter has been updated. If a chapter has not been updated, it will not have this message at the top. Beware of non-updated chapters, they may contain plot inconsistencies.**_

Sheva opened her eyes slowly; a colleague of hers, Matt, was standing in front of her.

"Ah!" She shot up, caught off-guard. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Sheva," he said grimly, "We've got a problem."

* * *

"What the _hell_ do you mean she's 'gone missing'!" Sheva roared.

"Settle down; you panicking isn't going to help her," Tyler Fisk tried to place a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off.

The Camp Supervisor was a tall, burly man in his late forties. He carried a small pistol strapped to his outer thigh, but other than that he was unarmed.

"My sitting here won't help her either!" She turned toward the door.

"Sheva!" Fisk stopped her.

"What?" she snapped. This was no time for delay.

"I'm making it your responsibility to inform her relatives," he said.

Sheva paused apprehensively, "Why me?"

"From what I understand, you were partners with her brother a few years back. I figured you'd be better equipped to deliver the news, and I have a feeling he'd be better off hearing it from you."

Chris. She'd forgotten about him. No doubt he'd jump on a plane the moment he found out.

"And Sheva?" her boss added.

"What?"

"Don't do anything stupid."

"Yeah, yeah…" she said dismissively before leaving.

* * *

Claire flew upward in a sudden panic. She had no idea where she was, but she knew at least two things; her head hurt like hell, and she was starving. And she was lying on an itchy mattress in a cold, dark room.

"Hello?" she called out tentatively. Her voice echoed loudly, and for a few moments she thought she was alone. Until a set of light footsteps on a concrete floor informed her otherwise.

"Good evening, dear heart. Did you sleep well?" a cool voice questioned.

She squinted, trying to make out the man's figure in the darkness. Her mind suddenly returned to the events she last recalled. Nelson, the training facility, and... Wesker.

Claire's heart gave a funny _ka-thump! _when she remembered his name.

"Wha- How- You're supposed to be dead!" she finally stammered.

"I'm sorry, dear, but your brother seems to have made a habit of failing to eliminate me. I'm not quite that easy to get rid of."

Claire was trembling; she couldn't tell if it was because of the cold, or out of fear.

"In all honesty, I wasn't expecting to get this lucky. You have a tendency to arrive at the most opportune times, don't you?"

Claire gave him a hard look, "What are you planning?"

"Tsk," Wesker chided, "All in good time. I'd certainly hate to spoil the surprise."

She could heard him turn, his footsteps growing quieter. Claire jumped up in a surge of anger.

"Ah!" she cried at the pain in her ankle. She fell to the ground almost immediately. It took her a few moments to recover, but she crawled forward as far as she could.

Only to discover she was confined by cell bars.

"Wesker!" she gripped the bars for support, calling after him, "Don't you dare hurt my brother! Wesker!"

The sound of a heavy door slamming shut silenced her.

Words failed to register. Wesker. Breathing. The concept was a shocking one- it was a spirit-breaker, to discover such a thing to be true. What was worse was that no one knew it, save for the one person who was helpless to do anything.

* * *

"WHAT!"

"Chris-"

"Don't 'Chris' me! What the _hell_ happened to my sister!"

Sheva sighed. She knew this wouldn't be easy, "I don't know exactly."

"How long has she been missing!"

"It was first noticed this morning."

"Who was the last person to see her?"

"I am, I think. She was getting ready for bed when I left her."

"You didn't notice anything strange?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary, no."

Chris sighed in exasperation.

"Was there anything? Anything at all?"

"Chris, there's nothing! Believe me, I've been wracking my brain all day trying to figure this out. Nothing happened!"

"Something happened, or else Claire would still be there!"

"Sheva!" a voice came from behind her. It was Matt again. He looked winded and his face was red, as though he'd just ran a mile.

"Hang on, Chris," Sheva put her hand over the receiver, "What is it?"

"We found a pair of crutches behind the training facility. I have a feeling they're hers."

Sheva gave him a fearful look, "What could this mean?"

Matt shook his head, "She must've been kidnapped, though I couldn't say how, or by whom."

"Right," Sheva said, turning back to the phone, "Chris, something's come up. I'll call you later, okay?"

"No, Sheva-" Chris started, but she hung up the phone before he could say another word.

* * *

Chris had three things; his gun, his shoulder bag, and his phone.

He turned to leave his bedroom when he saw Jill in his doorway.

"Where do you think you're going?" She asked, crossing her arms.

"Claire needs me," Chris replied, edging around her and walking to his dining table.

"You're going to Africa?" she asked, surprised.

"I should have never let Claire go alone. I should've been with her."

"She's an adult, Chris."

"And she's in trouble."

"They're never going to let you on the plane with a gun!"

"I'll figure out a way," Chris said. He was fishing for his keys from his coat pocket.

"Chris," Jill stalked over to him and forced him to face her, "Would you stop for a minute and think about this?"

"I've done all the thinking I need to do," he shrugged his way out of Jill's grip and walked past her.

Jill sighed.

"Are you sure this is best? Whoever these people are, how can you be sure they aren't using Claire to get to you? What if it's a trap?"

"And what if it is? Claire is still in danger."

"Chris, please-"

"Jill," Chris stopped her. He walked to her and placed a hand on her shoulder, "She's my sister. I have to get her and bring her back; if she ever… if she…"

He couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.

Jill looked down for a moment, seeming to think, and then pulled Chris into a tight hug.

"I understand," she said, "I'm sorry."

* * *

"Where have you been? I've been trying to call you!"

"Sorry; I got a little… hung up."

"_Funny_. What are you doing? Your signal's all fuzzy."

"That would be because I'm on an airplane," Chris looked out the small window; he was currently flying over the Atlantic Ocean.

He heard Sheva sigh on the other line, "I knew it. When will you be here?"

"In about an hour. Have a gun waiting for me when I get there, would you?" Jill hadn't let him bring his to the airport.

"Alright; I can do that."

"Thanks, Sheva."

"No problem."

Chris hung up and sighed.

_Claire, please be okay._

**Not much of Claire/Wesker yet. It's gonna take a while to get to that point. Bear with me! ^_^**


	8. Chapter 8

_**This chapter has been updated. If a chapter has not been updated, it will not have this message at the top. Beware of non-updated chapters, they may contain plot inconsistencies.**_

"_Mommy?" A little boy walked slowly down a long corridor. The wallpaper was covered in teddy bears and yellow ducks. The floor was checkered blue and white, and there were small toys lining the walls._

"_Momma?" He called again. His tiny feet gave light pats with each step he took._

"_Is someone there?" A woman's voice sounded. A door creaked open at the end of the hall, and a young woman with a white nurse's hat poked her head out._

"_Albert?" she gave a look of surprise and walked over to him. "You're supposed to be in bed. What are you doing up?"_

"_I'm scared. I want momma."_

"_Your mother…?"_

"_Momma! Where's my momma?"_

"_What's going on?" Another woman appeared at the first woman's side._

"_He's looking for his mother."_

"_Who?"_

"_I'm not sure... Albert, sweetie, you don't have a mother."_

"_Yes I do. Where is she?"_

"_Albert, listen to me; there is no mother. You've never had one. Are you thinking of a nurse?"_

"_I want momma!"_

_The two women gave each other concerned looks._

"_Come along, Albert. You need to go to bed," the second woman told him. She grabbed his hand and led him back down the hall._

"_But what about momma?" he asked. The woman just kept walking._

Wesker slowly opened his eyes.

'A dream...?' he wondered. It had been years since he'd last dreamed.

Shaking his head, he sat up and looked around. He'd been sleeping at his desk, like he did every night.

He tapped the keyboard in front of him, and the once-black screen revealed several surveillance feeds. He selected the camera in Claire's cell, and, after enabling night vision, saw that she was lying on her side. Her head was pressed to her knees and her arms were wrapped around her legs.

Wesker looked at the watch on his wrist; it was nearly time for breakfast.

* * *

Claire was absorbed in her own self-pity when she heard the door open. She wasn't sure how long she'd been laying in the dark, but she was unprepared for the sudden brightness.

She squinted, lifting one hand in front of her eyes to aid her vision. The dark outline of Wesker appeared before her, and she narrowed her eyes.

He approached slowly, carrying something in his hand. For a moment, she thought he was going to say something, but he merely slid a small plate through the door of the cell and turned away.

As he walked away, Claire opened her mouth before she even knew what she was saying.

"I think you're a fool." The moment the words left her mouth, Wesker stopped.

Claire covered her mouth with her hands, cursing whatever had possessed her to speak. His figure slowly turned, until she saw his face, partially luminated, watching her.

Neither moved; Claire couldn't even breathe. She wondered if he was going to hurt her. And then Wesker gave a sarcastic smile.

"Oh? Pray tell, dear heart, why that might be?"

Claire opened her mouth, but no words came out. She wasn't sure what to say, or if she should say anything at all.

"You see," Wesker continued at her silence, "from what I've observed, _you _are the fool. You occupy your time with inconsequential pursuits, calling yourself happy. If it weren't for me, you wouldn't have a purpose. You're nothing more than bait."

"You're wrong!" Claire said. She had a purpose; everything she'd gone through was proof of that. Her job at TerraSave, the time she spent helping people, and... her brother.

As if reading her mind, Wesker started again, "You're referring to that pathetic occupation of yours? All that time you spend cleaning up your brother's messes?"

Claire sat up, suddenly livid, "As I recall, all of those 'messes' were your fault."

He wasn't looking at her now, "You think so? Come, dear heart; can you think of any point in time in which I expressed a desire for things to turn out this way? If it weren't for Chris showing up at the last second and ruining everything, there would be no need for TerraSave. Or the BSAA, for that matter. If things had run their intended course, the world would be much better off."

"Millions of people would be dead!" Claire countered. She was growing frustrated.

"The weak have no purpose," he sneered. "If they can't survive, then they deserve death."

"You've obviously never been loved," Claire retorted.

Claire saw Wesker's body start shaking, and soon his head was thrown back in thunderous laughter. Her heart skipped a beat; she knew it had been the wrong thing to say. She needed to learn to keep her mouth shut.

When he finished laughing, he gave her a deadly smile.

"Love?" he spat. "Love is nothing more than a lie conjured by the weak to live off of others. The ones who claim to love or be loved are either idiots or parasites, and I have patience for neither."

Claire was at a loss; the conversation wasn't going anywhere. She didn't see a point in trying to convince him he was wrong, and even if she did, she wasn't sure how to go about it.

Wesker turned on his heels and shut the door, leaving Claire in the dark once again.

* * *

Chris stepped out of his rental car with a small backpack clung over his shoulder.

"Chris!" Sheva waved. She'd been waiting for him. She jogged over and gave him a handgun.

"Thanks," he said, holstering it.

"Sure thing," she replied. Chris started walking.

"What progress have you made so far?" he asked. Sheva had to jog to keep up with him.

"We pulled the list of people on guard duty when Claire went missing. They're being interviewed now."

"Good. I want to talk to them."

"That might take a while. There're roughly forty people on that list."

"Who was nearest to Claire?"

"We can't say for certain. I do remember a couple of the men who were on duty before I went to bed."

"Right," Chris said. "Let's start with them."


	9. Chapter 9

_**This chapter has been updated. If a chapter has not been updated, it will not have this message at the top. Beware of non-updated chapters, they may contain plot inconsistencies.**_

Ada was carefully perched on the small chimney of a German townhouse. It was pitch black, and there were no sounds save for the occasional shout or barking dog. A clock tower a few hundred yards away told her it was 2:00 AM.

Nearly time.

She slid a small black case out of her way and perched herself along the flat ledge where the two slopes of the rooftop met, loading her rifle. This was her last target for the night.

After a few minutes of observing patiently, her man came into view.

He was slowly ascending the outdoor staircase to his room. Ada peered carefully through her scope, waiting for the right opportunity. She pulled the trigger, suppressing a small recoil, and peeked through the scope once more.

Her target was a crumpled heap on the steps. Her job was done.

She sighed and began pulling the weapon apart quickly, placing each piece in its assigned position in the case.

She wasn't supposed to be taking jobs from other people, but it had been nearly three years since she'd received any orders from the organization, coincidentally around the same time Wesker disappeared. She had heard rumors that he'd been killed in Africa, but couldn't bring herself to believe it.

In her line of work, assuming the worst-case-scenario had become second-nature. She couldn't get too carefree; if Wesker had indeed survived, it could mean her life.

She pondered this as she slipped down the side of the roof and onto the balcony of the room she'd rented. What was the organization's take on the matter? What didn't she know?

Should she go to Africa and see for herself? The BSAA would be crawling all over the place, and the organization, regardless of its lack of recent activity, was still watching her...

She could try to contact the organization herself, but she had long-standing orders specifically not to do so. She actually had orders not to leave Europe, but exactly why that was, she couldn't say. Something was in the woodwork; she could sense it.

With nothing left to do, she gazed out of her window at the moon. There were so many variables... figuring out what to do next was going to take some time.

* * *

Sefu had been taking a leak. Radhi had been asleep. Kweli had been drunk.

Sheva was getting a headache; what good was security if they were constantly incapacitated? None of the men she remembered had been near Claire when she went missing. This meant they would have to run down the list of the remaining guards and hope that they saw something. The inhabitants of nearby tents had also been interviewed, but to no avail. Everyone had been asleep.

Sheva knew Chris was having a hard time controlling himself; his sister went missing near the last place Albert Wesker had been seen alive. It didn't take much to connect those dots.

However, Sheva couldn't believe the man was still alive. Chris hadn't been with her the last three years; he went back to the states almost immediately after the incident. He didn't understand the countless hours she and others had spent searching the ash; all of that time led her to believe that Wesker, along with his remains, had perished in the volcano.

"Who's Sabra Mhina?" Chris asked, interrupting Sheva's thoughts.

"I'm not sure; I don't think I know him. Or her," she added hastily. Names these days were scarcely any indication of gender.

"Well, why don't we pay them a visit?" Chris said, stuffing the paper containing the names of all the guards in his pocket.

"Sounds good to me," Sheva uncrossed her arms and stood from the table she'd been leaning against.

* * *

"Why in the hell didn't you tell me! Chris isn't supposed to be down there; he's too close to the victim!"

"Her name is _Claire_," Jill huffed defensively, "And don't you think you're jumping the gun a bit? For all we know, no crime has been committed; we can hardly conclude that she's a victim."

Gunther Yates flung his arms in the air, "That's irrelevant! Chris can't be objective! He could be putting _Claire _in even more danger! Oh, if the president finds out..."

"What if he does? Chris is on vacation. The BSAA has no bearing on where he goes in his spare time-"

"-_Unless_ it's to a BSAA outpost," Yates interrupted. "Jill, this is a huge mess. I'm giving you a warning; no more. I respect Chris, and I want him to get his sister back; I really do. But we can't sanction this type of behavior, even from him. He's a hell of a fighter, but he's hardly skilled in dealing with the public. Our international relations are already being tested with the incident in Kijuju; locals are getting restless and the country wants us out of there. If they find out Chris showed up under these circumstances, I can only imagine the frenzy to follow."

"You only care about keeping face; you're not concerned about Claire at all!" Jill accused.

"Jill settle down. Of course I'm concerned about Chris' sister. I never said I wasn't. But look at the position I'm in! If we lose our funding, we won't be able to do anything for anyone! Claire's disappearance is under the jurisdiction of the local authorities; the FBI at best. Ours is an anti-terrorism organization; we have no reason to get involved. You can't make me forget that I have a job to do, can you?"

"What are you going to do?" Jill asked cautiously. She hadn't exactly realized how serious he'd been at first.

"I'm going to contact the African camp and have Chris temporarily suspended. They'll ship him back here so I can talk to him."

"You can't do that!"

"I have to."

Jill slammed her fists on Yates' desk, staring him down. He didn't look away, and after a couple of seconds Jill whirled around and stormed out of his office.

She considered going to Africa herself, but she'd be in even more trouble if she did. There was only one thing she could do; call Chris.

* * *

Claire blinked carefully. She'd just woken up, and was freezing.

'No, wonder,' she thought to herself, 'I've been sleeping on concrete.'

There was a not-so-perfectly good mat in her cell; she just hadn't felt like crawling over and pulling herself back onto it.

Even now, though she just woke up, she found herself tired and sore. The plate Wesker brought her however long ago was still lying on the floor at her feet, untouched.

She didn't feel like eating, and even if she did she wouldn't have. For now, it was the only protest she could manage.

She knew somewhere inside that she wasn't doing herself any good; not eating would only make her weaker, and would result in severely limited defenses if the opportunity to escape were to somehow arise. She ignored the fact, however, and remained adamant.

She started wondering about Chris; Sheva had certainly learned of her absence by now. Daylight, at one point or another, had come. The question was whether Chris knew or not.

How had he taken it, if he knew? How would he, if he didn't? Claire desperately hoped he hadn't come to Africa, but figured he probably did, or would. If that was the case, he was falling right into Wesker's trap.

She thought.

Actually, she had no idea what Wesker was up to. Their conversation hadn't revealed anything, except that at this point the only sure-fire way to kill Wesker was to tie him to a nuclear warhead an ship him off into space.

She briefly smiled at the image before remembering something else; Wesker had agents inside the BSAA!

Whether the man she met was the only one or not, she couldn't be certain, but if he had more, then everyone she cared about would be in danger. Even the one she met could be a decent-sized threat, assuming Wesker took that route. What she really wanted to know was why he was keeping her.

Her leg felt awful, and tears kept flowing from the pain. What good was water in her eyes when her ankle was the thing in pain? Not to mention it could only serve to dehydrate her in the end...

She was cut off from everyone, everything, and that thought terrified her. She now had crucial information that needed to be reported at once, and she was a useless heap of a prisoner.

In the end, she heaved herself off of the floor and did her best to fall asleep.

* * *

_"Have there been any new developments?"_

"Yes, sir. It appears that a young woman has vanished from the BSAA camp in Kijuju."

_"And...?"_

"The captain believes this to be the work of Albert Wesker."

_"Albert Wesker is dead."_

"The captain is not so convinced."

_"Is there any evidence to support such a claim?"_

"Nothing beyond circumstantial. However, the captain asked me to make special mention that he is willing to stake his life on the theory that Albert Wesker is alive."

_"I see. Well, he shall have his wish. Contact Ms. Wong; she will accompany your captain to Africa."_

"Yes, sir. Anything else?"

_"Yes; make sure your captain is aware that he is not to kill Mr. Wesker if he is alive."_

"And the girl?"

_"She is of little consequence. If it seems as though any genetic experimentation or alterations have occurred, bring her back alive. If not, kill her."_

"Yes, sir."


	10. Chapter 10

_**This chapter has been updated. If a chapter has not been updated, it will not have this message at the top. Beware of non-updated chapters, they may contain plot inconsistencies.**_

The man they were looking for was playing cards with three other soldiers when Chris and Sheva entered the tent. At their arrival, all four of the men turned to look at the pair.

"Sabra Mhina?" Chris inquired.

"Yes?"

"We were hoping to speak with you."

"Is this about my vacation time?"

"No."

"Then I don't wanna hear it."

Chris and Sheva exchanged looks. "This is a serious matter."

The tall man sighed and dropped his cards, turning to face them, "More serious than the fact that I haven't seen my daughter in three years?"

Sheva hesitated, "I'm sorry to hear that." She knew what Chris was thinking; at least his daughter hadn't mysteriously vanished whilst on a potentially dangerous investigative trail.

"Of course you are. Everyone is," the man replied bitterly.

"Please. This is important. We just want to ask you a couple of questions."

Mhina looked at his comrades for a moment before dropping his head and scooting his chair back. "No cheating," he warned his friends, and followed Chris outside.

"Alright; what's this about?" he asked. Sheva started.

"This morning a girl went missing from camp. We're trying to find her."

"Oh yeah; I remember. The visitor from TerraSave, right?"

"Her name is Claire Redfield," Chris said. "She's my sister."

Mhina gave Chris a curious look, "I see."

"Your records state that you were on duty at the time of the kidnapping. We were hoping you might have seen something that could help us."

"Where was she?" He asked.

"Her tent was the last place she was seen. It was in the middle of Row D, just over there," Sheva pointed. Mhina's gaze followed her direction, and his eyes widened.

"Maybe you should talk to some of the guys from the American division," he said.

"No one from the American division was on duty," Sheva replied, confused.

"I definitely saw an American. He was the only person I saw in that direction wearing a uniform. I didn't think much of it at the time, but we don't normally patrol the isles; just the columns along the edge here," Mhina pointed to either side of the collection of tents. "Even if he had been on duty, he had no business over there."

"Who was the man? Do you know?" Chris sounded desperate, and Sheva feared she might need to talk him down.

Just as the tall man opened his mouth, another voice came a small distance away.

"Christopher Redfield?" All three of them looked at the speaker.

"That's me."

"We just got a call from HQ. You've been temporarily suspended. I've been asked to escort you to the office of our camp supervisor."

Chris and Sheva blinked.

"W-what?" Sheva stuttered.

"Please follow me," the soldier implored, ignoring Sheva.

"Wait- what for?" Chris asked. This was _not _the time.

"I don't know anything more. Our supervisor can fill you in on the details."

Chris turned his gaze to Sheva. He was wearing an expression of disbelief and frustration.

"Will you keep going?" he asked her. She shifted his gaze from the soldier to Chris and nodded slowly. "Of course I will."

Mhina seemed a little hesitant, but raised his hand slightly for attention, "I'll help too."

Chris faced him, unsure of his own emotions. After a couple of seconds, he gave a respectful nod to the man before following the soldier.

* * *

"Damnit!" Jill slammed her phone down. Why the hell wasn't Chris answering?

She sat back in her chair and looked at the phone accusingly, as if it were to blame for her troubles. She was surprised when it rang. She swiped the receiver up hastily, "Chris? Is that you?"

"Erm- no..." a familiar voice replied.

"Rebecca?"

"Hey, Jill. Um... You might wanna come down here for a minute."

"Why? What's wrong?"

"Just... get over here," her friend seemed distracted.

"Alright..." Jill started. She was about to say something else, but she was cut off.

"Right; hurry down!" was all she heard before the dialtone. Jill was slightly puzzled, but for the moment Chris wasn't the first thing on her mind.

_Guess I'd better see what's going on,_ she thought to herself, moving toward the elevator.

When she reached the infirmary, Barry, Carlos and Billy were already there. They were all looking through an observation window into one of the operating rooms.

"Hey, guys; what's up?" Jill walked over to them curiously. The only one who acknowledged her was Carlos, who pointed into the room without pulling his eyes away from the scene. Jill followed his indication and hesitated.

A red-haired man was lying on the operating table, his scalp peeled partially away and hanging from his head haphazardly. Three surgeons were moving around him, apparently preparing for the next stage of the operation.

"What's going on?" Jill asked.

"Uroboros," Barry replied.

"_What!"_

Her loud cry seemed to shock them all from their morbid stupor, and the three men turned to look at her.

"Why in the world is someone infected with Uroboros at the BSAA! How did he even get here?"

None of them answered. They were all as confused as she was.

"Where's Rebecca?" She asked. Billy pointed in the room. Re-examining those in the operating room, she managed to identify her short-statured friend in spite of the mask covering her face.

She couldn't believe what was going on. Why was Rebecca operating on a patient with Uroboros? Where had this man come from?

She gazed in horror as they started drilling into the man's skull. Rebecca wasn't actually doing much; she was mostly playing the role of nurse, but Jill managed to spot a handgun strapped to the woman's thigh,and this fact made her uneasy.

* * *

When the operation was over, she headed straight for the elevator, ready to confront Rebecca. It seemed as though the other three had similar plans, as they were immediately behind her.

They found her washing her hands and pulling off her scrubs.

Billy was the first to speak, "Becca; what was _with _that? What's going on?"

Rebecca gave all four of them serious looks. "It's a long story," she shook her head in exhaustion. When the group didn't falter, she waved her hand, meaning for them to follow her.

* * *

Ada's phone beeped. She was getting a call.

The I.D. read 'Dave'. It was the organization.

"What is it?" Ada asked almost bitterly. She was never in a good mood when they called.

"Your services have been requested. Please return to headquarters as soon as possible for further details," a voice said before hanging up.

Ada flipped her phone shut and looked out of the window. Looks like the company hadn't completely forgotten about her.

* * *

"AARGH!"

The cry put Claire on edge instantly. She'd only just managed to fall asleep.

She watched as the door creaked open, and her heart started to race. What was was he going to do now?

'Maybe if I just pretend to sleep, he'll leave me alone,' Claire thought. It seemed like a good enough plan, until another growl rang in her ears.

She propped herself up and turned to face the man, unsure of what she could possibly say to make him leave, but her eyes instead met something that wasn't human.

"What in the-" she started, but an oily black tendril shot at her; she rolled to the floor, only to find that the appendage had wrapped around the bars of her cell.

There was a crumbling sound as the metal was torn from the concrete foundation, and soon Claire was left with no barrier between herself and a mass of slithering tentacles.

"No..." she said weakly. She cried out in pain as another tentacle wrapped itself around her damaged ankle and started dragging her away. "_NO!_" she screamed, turning over on her stomach and desperately searching for some sort of weapon. She managed to find a hole in the floor where the bars used to be and clung to it, hoping to buy herself some time.

She resisted the creature's pull for only a few seconds before it stopped. She felt her body relax against the floor and wondered for a moment if it had gone, but then she heard a footstep, and another, and, looking over her shoulder, Claire saw the creature slowly approaching her.

She whirled around and tried to get away, but started sliding again. She reached for the hole, but another tentacle caught her arm and yanked her off the ground. Suddenly she couldn't move; she couldn't even breathe. The mob was coiling itself around her body, immobilizing her with the exception of her rapid heart beat. Her eyes fought to stay open as she was swung around in the air. Then, without warning, she felt herself being jerked downward.

Her frightened, blue eyes met cold red ones.

She was mere inches from Wesker's face, covered with wiry strands of Uroboros. He had a fierce expression that held her gaze as his hands rose to meet her throat. Claire shut her eyes and turned her head away, not knowing what to expect nor wanting to. She waited in silent terror for the sensation of her neck in his grip.

"RAGH- GAHK!" she heard the strangled cry but was flying through the air before she could look. Her body slammed into a wall and hit the floor hard; she was sure she broke something. Taking several long, hard breaths, she forced her eyes on Wesker.

The man was gripping his head in pain, and the tentacles which had erupted form his back were swinging violently. His leather shirt was torn to shreds; its only visible remnants being the pieces of material still clinging to his neck and torso.

Wesker's motions were erratic; his body was tensed and his facial features were contorted in pain and rage. Claire watched in awe as the oily roots began to shrink and disappear under his skin. The web-like lines across his face and shoulders started to fade as well, and Wesker sunk to his knees, exhausted.

Claire's eyes were wide in confusion and fear; she wasn't sure what she should do. Should she try to escape? Would it work?

As those thoughts entered her mind, the blond man raised his head slightly, meeting her eyes. The expression he wore was somewhat confused, but a bit closer to fury.

Choosing her words in such a way as not to anger him further, Claire's voice trembled as she spoke.

"_What_ was _that_ about?"

**I know... I'm not the best with action scenes, but I try. If you have any suggestions, I'd certainly appreciate them; the same goes for past chapters too~!**


	11. Chapter 11

_**This chapter has been updated. If a chapter has not been updated, it will not have this message at the top. Beware of non-updated chapters, they may contain plot inconsistencies.**_

This wasn't good.

It had been pure luck; the fact that he was able to regain control when he did. He couldn't let this happen again. Claire Redfield was essentially his trump card; something which, at the present time, he couldn't afford to lose.

She was still in the other room, but he wasn't fond of the idea of leaving her to wander about so freely.

He would have to move again.

* * *

"Okay; you guys can't utter a word of this to Yates. You're not supposed to know yet. Promise?" Rebecca looked at the four. They each nodded in agreement.

"Right. As you already know, passengers and crew members on board international transportation have undergone routine inspection to make sure they didn't pick up the infection somehow."

"Can't be too careful," Barry took a seat on a small couch.

"Exactly. This isn't strictly an American policy either; nations all over the globe have followed suit in order to prevent further outbreaks."

"So, I'm guessing that guy you were just working on was spotted during one of these inspections?" Jill asked. Rebecca nodded.

"There aren't any facilities equipped to handle patients who serve as potential bio-hazards like these in the U.S., except our own. He was brought here for observation. It was then Yates suggested we operate to see if we could remove Uroboros from the man's system. The only reason I was there was because I'm the only medic with combat experience on-duty today. I was basically the surgeon's body guard," she laughed sheepishly when she said that, clearly not accustomed to being considered in such a way.

"How did it go? Is he clean?" Billy asked curiously.

Rebecca shook her head, "I'm not sure. They're re-testing him to see what they can find. But that's not exactly the point."

"Okay then, what is?"

"He wasn't in the Kijuju area during the incident. As a matter of fact, this man's never been to Africa in his life."

Everyone's attention suddenly shot to Rebecca; for a while, no one moved.

"Wait; so, does that mean-" Carlos started.

"Uroboros has somehow managed to leak out of Africa." Rebecca finished for him.

"For all we know, everyone in the world is at risk of contracting the parasite."

* * *

The moment she stepped out of the car, Ada knew it was going to be a bad day.

Nicholai Ginovaef was standing several yards from the entrance of the building, arms crossed.

After his escape from Raccoon City, he'd been sought out by the Organization. Though their original motives for recruiting him had largely to do with the fact that he had unique knowledge of B.O.W.s, his physical capabilities had been seen as an asset, and he found himself on their payroll.

Though, to Ada, he was just a pain.

He waved his hand and started to walk toward the side of the large building. Ada handed her keys to an attendant and followed him.

He was walking up an outdoor staircase; it led directly to the roof. There, a helicopter was waiting for them.

"What's this?" Ada asked Nicholai.

"Personal transport," he said through his thick accent. "You and I are going to Africa."

* * *

Fisk took a seat behind his desk while Chris paced back and forth in front of him.

"I can't leave! Not now! Claire's still out there; I have to find her."

"I'm sorry, but I have orders. You've got a meeting with your supervisor."

"Give me a phone! I'm calling him!"

Fisk pushed his office phone toward Chris, who dialed Yates immediately.

"Gunther Yates' office. This is Helen."

"Helen; it's Chris. Get Yates on the line, would you?"

"Of course; one moment."

Yates picked up his phone, "Gunther Yates speaking."

"What in the _hell _do you think you're doing!" Yates tensed at the voice. He'd expected this much.

"Chris, I-"

"You're not pulling me out yet. I've got a job to do here."

"It isn't _your _job. I'm sorry to have to do this, but you're coming back here."

"I'm not going anywhere without my sister," Chris growled.

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice. I've got the president crawling up my ass thanks to you. If you don't get back here, it's _my _head on the chopping block."

"I don't know what to tell you; Claire is more important to me than your job security."

"Fair enough; but what about the BSAA? If word gets out that we can't control our men, our entire reputation goes down the toilet. It was a good program at first, with plenty of support, but the public seems to be under the impression that with the fall of Umbrella and WilPharma, bio-hazards are a thing of the past."

"What are you talking about? Who's saying that?"

"Taxpayers. People are starting to think that our usefulness has reached its limits. We're a non-profit organization, Chris; if we lose our funding, that's that."

Chris looked at the floor before speaking again, "Well, maybe we _are _done. If things are already this bad, then what does it matter? I have no intention of scrambling to pick up what's left of the BSAA if it means I lose my sister in the process."

Yates sighed, "Look; I know you. You don't really believe the threat's over. Now, there's something serious going on; something I'd rather not discuss over the phone. You need to get back here and see this; it'll put a halt to any skepticism of our necessity."

"More important than my sister?"

"If this is what I think it is, everyone's in danger. You, Claire, _everyone._ You're country needs you right now."

"Why? What's going on that you can't tell me now?"

"You'll find out when you get here. Just, promise you won't stir up any trouble?"

Chris glanced over to Fisk, who had been only half-listening to the conversation. He seemed more occupied with his watch than anything.

"Fine," Chris conceded bitterly. He dropped the phone on the hook. Fisk looked up, but said nothing as Chris turned and headed down the stairs.

**Okay; recap.**

**Wesker lives. Claire goes to Africa. Clair gets kidnapped by Wesker. Chris goes to Africa. Ada and Nicholai go to Africa. Chris comes back from Africa.**

**Ah, recaps; the chibis of literature. ^_^**


	12. Chapter 12

_**This chapter has been updated. If a chapter has not been updated, it will not have this message at the top. Beware of non-updated chapters, they may contain plot inconsistencies.**_

**I KNOW THIS LOOKS INTIMIDATING, BUT THERE'S IMPORTANT INFORMATION IN HERE! AT LEAST TAKE A PEEK!**

**For any bonified RE fans, the following bold print is an explanation of certain things that might not be entirely understood or portrayed in this story.**

**One thing necessary to make Wesker/Claire fictions decent is PROBABILITY. If you get the characters, the timeline, and any other things relevant to your plot correct, not to mention making it mesh well with the actual RE plot-line, you inevitably have a story that could very well happen. It's that kind of thing I look for when I'm out to read a fanfiction, and I'll go out on a limb here and say that that's probably what others want too.**

**However, explaining how things in your fiction is possible can be a bit tricky; often times you have a solid plot, but making your reader aware of **_**how**_ **your plot connects to the characters, and to RE's plot **_**while**_ **telling the story makes you look like a redundant moron. I have just found myself in that position.**

**There were a couple things that I wanted to explain to you readers, largely in regards to the timeline of my fiction and some character appearances. Since I couldn't find a decent way to incorporate this into the actual story, I've decided to just tell you here.**

**First of all, it's been three years since the incident in Kijuju. **

_**When Wesker first infected himself with Uroboros, he would regularly administer serum to keep the Uroboros under control. Also, later, it was the Uroboros that repaired Wesker's severely damaged body while he was encased in lava. Sort of a self-preservation thing; healing the host so the parasite itself won't die.**_

_**For those of you unfamiliar with Alexia Ashford from Code: Veronica, she placed herself in a cryogenic sleep in order to properly bond with the T-Veronica virus. Well, I was thinking that the time Wesker spent keeping the parasite at bay with the serum could be seen in a similar light. Only, he didn't get enough time in 'incubation' for his body to properly bond. Now think; what would have happened if Alexia's fifteen-year-sleep had been interrupted? I'm guessing the same type of thing would happen to her that did to her father; she'd turn into an uncontrollable monster with no mind of her own. (Granted, she ****did** **turn into an uncontrollable monster, but she still had a brain.) Only, as a result of the small amount of bonding that ****did** **occur, it would have taken longer for her to transform than it did for Alexander or Steve.**_

_**Think of the minions in RE5; (weren't they called Ganados, or something? Or was that RE4...?) they immediately succumbed to Uroboros, incapable of really benefitting from the virus because it took them over too quickly. Wesker is suffering from something similar; the small amount of bonding he did** **have allowed him for a certain period of time to resist being taken over. However, the longer he goes without the serum, the worse he gets.**_

_*****_**Except I recently discovered that Wesker was not, in fact, infected with Uroboros yet. It was just a regular old virus at first; miscalculation on my part. So my alternative reasoning is that the virus Wesker was trying to control within himself was something of a conditioning factor. One way or another I think it's safe to assume, Wesker intended to infect himself with Uroboros. Now, as delightfully maniacal as the man is, he's too intelligent to blindly pursue an end on faith alone; all that tripe about Uroboros "choosing" who was worthy and abandoning the rest, I feel, was just a load of bull he was feeding Excella. There's got to be a biological factor involved with those who are rejected and those who are not- Wesker's character is not one to play at chance. Wesker I suspect uncovered this secret factor some time ago, and the virus he possessed was his ticket to preparing himself for Uroboros. Unfortunately, Chris and Sheva injected him with the serum and botched the whole thing up (meanies) so now Wesker's not in the best of shape to take on the parasite. What's more, he doesn't really think about that and shoves his hand in a gigantic tanker full of wonderful oily parasites and prematurely infects himself, leading to his current predicament. And yes, I now know that the minions from RE5 are Majini.**

**Ta da. Okay, that's done with.**

**Here's something that kind of bothered me; why did it take three years for Uroboros to start spreading?**

**Well, we can attribute that to the massive efforts on the parts of TerraSave and the BSAA. After the Kijuju incident, airlines, boat travel, trains; any form of public transportation you can think of in and out of Africa, as well as southern Europe and the Middle East, were shut down in order to prevent possible contamination. Borders were closed, and the entire continent was basically immobilized. The BSAA and TerraSave moved in quickly, and the majority of the virus was succesfully destroyed.**

**As to **_**how**_ **the virus was released, that will be explained soon enough. I just figured I'd elaborate on some of the aftermath of Kijuju, and hint that there's a little slight-of-hand taking place.**

**Okay; now to explain my reasoning as to why some of my characters are where they are. I do have OC's, but they're kind of a necessity in this case and they don't play tremendous roles, so no harm, no foul.**

**Billy – Yes, he's back. My theory; he made Rebecca's day by showing up out of nowhere. After the horrors he encountered, he was motivated to join the BSAA. And did. So there. _Also, I'm not totally clear on the whole 'Billy's a criminal' thing. I know he was sent somewhere to kill some people, but he thought he was doing a good thing and his commanding officer was the jerk who got him and his buddies in trouble. Anyway, let's just say Rebecca probably helped him find evidence to prove his innocence and he got off, or something... I dunno; it's not the point of my story, so... bleh. _*Alright, I got caught up to speed on Billy's situation. Apparently he was attempting to save a bunch of villagers his buddies were killing, got knocked unconscious, and woke up to find that he'd been arrested for the murders of the villagers. Not sure what happened to his buddies, though... anyway, Rebecca originally reported Billy's death to her superiors and his pursuit was dropped. It's a little unprofessional to leave such a plothole like 'Billy came out of nowhere to join up with everyone', so I'll just attribute it to Becca talking to Yates and _begging _him to pull some strings, which he does because he's nice like that. And Billy's a good soldier with much-coveted combat experience with B.O.W.'s who's willing to help the government. Everyone wins.**

**Carlos – What he ended up doing after RE3 is kind of a mystery, but after he was betrayed by Nicholai and (essentially) Umbrella, he decided to join the BSAA and fight bad guys.**

**Nicholai Ginovaef – Now, he is a little mixy-upy in the Resident Evil world. Either Nemesis killed him, Jill killed him, or nobody killed him. My route; no one killed him. When Umbrella fell, he was out of a job. The 'Organization' picked him up because 1) he had experience with B.O.W.s, 2) he could **_**fight **_**B.O.W.s and manage to... not die, and 3) evil people are evil people, and they should all have their own evil people's club. So... haha!**

**Ada Wong – _Okay; I know she was employed by Wesker, but double-crossed him for the organization. She also dated this Josh guy, but actually has this thing for Leon... She was in RE2 with Leon, Claire, Sherry, William, etc... and other stuff I don't exactly remember. She has personal reasons for joining the organization, but I have no clue what they are. And I'm scared to venture a guess because I'll probably have Ada fans hurling pitchforks and torches my way, so I'm going to try to keep her more of a minor character._*Nevermind, minor character she most certainly is not. I read up on her a little more and gained a better insight about her, and what she's after. She's going to have a key role in the sequel to Unhinged at least, if not in this one. **

_**I'm thinking about bringing in: Sherry, Rani, H.U.N.K., Frederick Downing, Angela Miller, Jack Krauser (why the hell not; people in RE have a habit of coming back from the dead...) and maybe some others, though I'm not sure who. ***_**Also, Ark Thompson hasn't had anything going on. Maybe I'll do him a favor and make his life more interesting.**

**If there's a character you want to see that I didn't name, lemme know and I'll see if they work. Also, if there's a character I **_**did **_**name that you were wondering about, just ask and I'll explain. Hopefully.**

**DON'T BE AFRAID TO ASK QUESTIONS! And, seriously, if you notice any plot errors, POINT THEM OUT. I don't want a two-bit fanfiction. I want a three-bit fanfiction!**

**Alright, I'm done. Now go have Wesker/Claire fun-ness, you rascals.**

Claire was completely baffled. What the hell was going on with Wesker? She wasn't entirely sure on the details of the Kijuju incident, but she knew enough to know that something weird was going on.

He'd completely destroyed the room she was in, nearly killed her, and then left without saying a word.

She hadn't moved from the place she landed; her body ached all over and she had a massive headache. The fact that her ankle had swollen considerably since the struggle wasn't helping ease her mind any either.

The familiar creak of the metal door came from her right, and Claire watched with guarded eyes as her blond enemy approached her.

He wasn't wearing a shirt; it had been destroyed. _The guy's got to be loaded; doesn't he have another somewhere? Or does he walk around in the same clothes every day?_ she seethed before reminded herself of the gravity of her predicament.

Without a word, Wesker knelt to inspect her wounds. There was a tension in the air- she wasn't sure if she wanted to scream and run or attack him. And _then_ run. He didn't appear as though he was going to hurt her, but she wouldn't trust that for a second.

His brow furrowed in mild frustration. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone.

"Where are you?" he barked demandingly. Claire could only hear some panicked mumbling from the other line.

"I don't care about that. You have ten minutes." He put his phone back and turned to Claire.

"Stand."

The simple command made Claire gape.

"I- I can't," she stuttered.

"Try."

Claire couldn't believe her ears. Why should she do anything he asked? It was his damn fault she was in this position in the first place! Of course, it's not like she expected him to be reasonable, but for someone who bothered to put a up a facade of courtesy he was being surprisingly stingy.

When she didn't move, he grabbed her arm roughly and brought her upright.

"Ahg!" Claire cried. The action had forced her weight on her bad leg. She buckled in agony, but Wesker held her up.

"There's no time to be considerate today," he spat impatiently. He pulled her arm over his shoulder and started dragging her away as if she were a toy wagon trailing behind a child. She wanted to object, but the creature she'd seen earlier was enough to keep her peace

* * *

It was three in the damn morning. If the neighbor locked himself out again, Jill was going to tell him exactly _where_ he could shove his keys. When she opened the door, however, it was Chris who was standing before her. She swallowed any greeting that might have come to her and looked him over. He looked exhausted, his forehead creased with worry and his eyes blood-shot. Yates had really done it this time.

"Hey, Jill. Do you mind if I come in?"

"Not at all," she stepped to the side to let him enter before shutting the door.

Chris dropped himself on her couch, "I feel awful."

"You look awful," Jill muttered. "To be honest, I didn't think you'd come back. I figured you would have kept looking."

"That's probably what I should have done," he sighed. She stared at him for a few moments.

"You know, as much as I hate to admit it, Yates _does _have a point. You weren't wrong for coming back, Chris. Claire would understand. You know she would."

"Well, yeah, but... I don't know, Jill. Claire is a lot of the reason I fight as hard as I do. If anything happened to her... I'm not sure I could do this anymore."

"You know about Uroboros?"

Chris nodded. "Everyone does, by now. Yates contacted the president, and he got a hold of the U.N. Everybody's in an uproar."

Jill walked over and took a seat next to him. She pulled his head onto her shoulder and cradled him for a while, not entirely sure what to say. She could feel the tears soaking through her shirt and held him tighter. He was always so strong; the sight of him this vulnerable was rare, and frightening.

* * *

Nicholai had leaned back into his seat, staring at the ceiling of the helicopter, when it began to descend.

Sitting up, he looked out of the window before addressing the pilot, "We shouldn't be arriving yet."

"I just got an order. All non-government aircraft are to land at the nearest available helipad."

"What? What the hell for!"

"I don't know. Just following orders."

"Bah. We don't have time for this. Get us there _now._"

"He can't do that," Ada interrupted. Her new partner had a reputation for being short-tempered. She figured she'd spare the innocent pilot a trip to the hospital.

"Why _not_?"

"Because closed airspace is just that; _closed_. If we don't get shot down while attempting to cross the border, you can bet there'll be an entire militia ready to greet us when we land. Do you really think we want that kind of attention?"

"So what do _you _suggest we do?"

Ada looked at the time on a clock tower just a few blocks from them.

"How do you feel about catching a train?"


	13. Chapter 13

**_This chapter has been updated. If a chapter has not been updated, it will not have this message at the top. Beware of non-updated chapters, they may contain plot inconsistencies._ **

**It's been thirty-two hours since Claire first went missing. Figured I'd update you on the timeline.**

Sheva was amazed at how many people wanted to help. Mhina had told some of his friends about Claire and Chris, who, in turn, told more people. Now it was common knowledge, and she couldn't seem to turn her head without finding yet another person wanting to know what they could do.

They had to limit their investigation to their free time, but nevertheless searched tirelessly. Claire became the most popular subject around, and anyone who had happened to bump into her before her disappearance was practically a celebrity. Josh had actually scraped together a monetary award for any information, and at that point everyone was scrambling to find the missing American girl.

In spite of the fact that the motive for finding Claire was becoming notoriety more than her actual safety, Sheva couldn't help but feel comforted by the sheer number of people ready to aid the search. She couldn't wait to tell Chris. It would most likely lift a great burden off his shoulders.

Having skipped breakfast that morning, Sheva was starving by lunchtime. She was on her way to the cafeteria when she heard someone calling her name. She turned to face Mhina, who was practically sprinting toward her. He was breathing hard when he finally caught her.

"Mhina? What's going on?"

"Sheva, I saw him. The American," Mhina panted. "At the training facility. He's there."

It took her only seconds to register what he was talking about.

She tapped his shoulder, "Come on!" and started running in the direction of the building.

When they got there, Sheva had her hand on one of the door handles when Mhina called her attention, "Sheva, over here."

She saw him standing at the corner of the structure, motioning for her to follow. She did so catiously, and when she rounded the corner there were three men, aside from Mhina, in a giant struggling heap.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"A couple of my comrades pulled him outside," Mhina called out over the shouts coming from the pile. There was a sudden painful cry, and Mhina's friends pulled themselves off the ground.

"What the hell is this!" Nelson roared. His hands were tied behind his back and his lip was bleeding. He struggled violently against his restraints, but couldn't seem to escape them.

"You're sure it's him?" Sheva asked.

"Positive."

Sheva studied the man, "What's your name?"

"Fuck off," he cursed.

"Okay, _Mr. Off_; where's Claire Redfield?"

"Who?"

"The young girl you kidnapped."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Liar!" Mhina shouted, but Sheva held up her hand.

"You were the last person to see her."

"I don't even know who you're talking about!"

Sheva grabbed his collar and forced his face inches from hers, "Think back. Yesterday. Five in the morning. You paid her a visit at her tent."

Nelson's heart was racing. If he said a word, the boss would kill him for sure. Sheva took his hesitation for an admission of guilt.

"Who are you working with?"

"Screw you."

Sheva slammed him against the wall, "Wrong answer. Try again."

Nelson gave a panicked look around; four against one, and he was tied down. But they weren't going to kill him; he knew as much. Rough him up a bit, yeah, but he'd still have his life. That wouldn't be the case if he talked.

"We can do this all day," Sheva growled, but Mhina put a hand on her shoulder.

"Sheva; let's leave this to Rashid and Pili. They're good with this sort of thing."

Her head whirled to face his, "Are you suggesting-"

"I'm not suggesting anything. I'm just saying they might have better luck. You and I should get lunch."

Sheva thought hard. Leaving now would be throwing this man to the wolves. He was guilty according to Mhina's testimony, but how certain was that?

She didn't know Mhina very well. Though he didn't seem like the type, she couldn't exactly put it past him to frame someone with whom he had a bone to pick. And he _had _been a little quick to offer help, even after expressed distaste for both herself and Chris. What other motive could he have?

"Follow me," she told Mhina. Then she turned to the other two, "Neither of you are to lay a hand on that man until I come back."

Sheva led him around the corner before speaking again, "What are you doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"You seem a little too eager to beat this guy down. Is there something you're not telling me?"

"You think I'm lying?"

"I think you're hiding something."

"And what might that be?"

"I don't know. You tell me."

Mhina looked edgy.

"If you don't tell me, I'm going to have to let him go."

"If you let him go we'll never see him again."

"Why are you so sure?"

"Because I saw him! He was the one!"

"How can you prove it? How can you be sure you're remembering the right man?"

"I-" he paused. The passion which had been reflected in his face vanished. "I don't know..."

Sheva looked at him carefully; the emotions in his face were unreadable, but the tone in his voice was almost... fear?

"What is it? Why are you going to such extremes?"

He bit his lip, as if holding something back. He looked like he wanted to speak, but couldn't.

"Mhina?" she repeated the question in his name, and he went over the edge.

"Shut up! Just stop it!" he shouted at her, but his voice cracked, and he felt himself start to let go.

"...!" Sheva was alarmed; he was crying now, and she could feel herself grow even more confused. What was he not telling her?

He fell to his knees, and she placed a hand on his shoulder patiently, waiting. It was an awkward thing, comforting a man she didn't know very well for something she couldn't understand. Fortunately, it didn't take long for him to regain control.

He wiped his face halfheartedly and looked at Sheva, defeated. Her face was its own question, and after his display he had no choice but to answer it.

"When I was eight-years-old, my parents and my baby sister moved to a small town called Macala. They were hoping to educate some of the smaller villages in the region. Except that a few of the locals resented our presence. We were often threatened with death, particularly from one group of people."

Mhina swallowed hard. Sheva was worried he might start choking up again, but he continued.

"One night, something woke me up. When I got up to look around, I saw him just outside my compound, with my sister in his arms. She struggled, but he was too strong. I could see him, and he could see me. He pulled out a knife and waved it at me, smiling, and... Halima's eyes... they were so big. So scared. And then they were nothing. When I realized what happened, she was already on the ground, dead, and the man was gone."

Sheva was stunned. "I... I'm sorry," she said.

"She was only six," he seemed to lose himself in his thoughts for a moment. Then he picked his head up and looked hard at Sheva, "I know what it's like to lose a sister. I loved mine very much. When I saw your friend, all of these emotions came back. I guess I just got carried away."

There was a long silence. Sheva felt her legs grow sore from kneeling.

As if he could sense her unease, Mhina stood up, "I'm sorry. It's been years since I thought about her, and then all of a sudden this comes out of nowhere," he seemed almost sheepish.

"It's all right," she assured. "But what do we do about him?" she made a quick gesture in the direction of the others, referring to Nelson.

"I'm positive he's the man."

"Well, we can't just _beat_ a confession out of him."

"What else _can _we do?"

Sheva paused for a moment to think, "You know what? I think I have a decent alternative."

* * *

"What have you got?"

"He's moving. He's over by the storage sheds."

"Alright. He's far enough; we can go now."

"Right."

Sheva, Mhina, and Josh stood all at once; the three were dressed as though preparing for war, with dark cargo pants and thick coats to ward off mosquitoes and cold. Sheva held a small screen in her hand.

_"We can track his movements," Sheva held up a small transmitter she'd got from the storage room. "Just get this somewhere he won't notice it, or leave it behind."_

_Mhina nodded, "I can put it in his wallet."_

It had had its risks; they had no way to be certain that he wouldn't abandon his wallet in a rush, or notice the small electronic device inside. But it had been their only option.

And it had worked.

* * *

Nelson was careful to stay out of sight. He had to get the hell out of this place, and didn't want anyone seeing him do it.

_"Alright, __Nelson__," the man sneered, flinging his wallet into his lap, "If you tell anyone about what happened here today, we'll be sure to pay you another visit."_

That's what one of those psychotic African division members had told him before letting him go.

It was dark, now. He'd stayed in the barracks until nightfall. When he was sure it was safe, he packed up his things and left.

But where would he go?

His only real option was the boss. The man wouldn't be very happy to see him, but once Nelson explained the situation, he might understand.

* * *

Claire was feeling sick. She hadn't eaten anything since the previous day, and they'd been traveling for hours in a stupid truck.

A stupid, _tiny _truck.

There were computers and other things under a blue tarp in the bed, while in the cabin she was squished between two men; the driver, and Wesker.

She didn't know Wesker very well, but she could sense an air of annoyance about him. Traveling in such a manner didn't seem to suit him.

As for Claire, she had a hard time deciding who to shrink away from; the driver was a creepy man with a disgusting smell, who'd been eying her all-too-appreciatively and was slowly moving his hand closer to her thigh every time he switched gears. And then there was Wesker; self-explanatory.

The closer the driver got, the further from him she inched, until there was no where left to go. She couldn't do anything without drawing Wesker's attention, and _that _was something she didn't want.

His hand was touching her leg now, and the slightest hint of a disgusting smile was plastered on his face.

Claire was turning red, completely enraged. As his hand started sliding, she found herself without any real options. She could tell him to stop, which he may or may not do. She had a hard time beleiving Wesker wouldn't react somehow, but _how _was the keyword. He might take her side.

But then again, he might not.

Her other option was to hit him, and hope that neither of the men would react too harshly; she was sure the driver would, but that route, once again, would require her to count on Wesker for backup.

She couldn't say which option was wiser, but she knew which one would _feel _better. Following that criteria, Claire balled her fist, preparing to strike the man's throat, when something held her back.

Another hand; Wesker's.

"Pull over," he ordered.

The driver took his hand away and stopped the truck. Wesker opened his door.

"Follow me," he told the driver. He sounded almost bored.

They slammed their doors shut and she watched as they went around the bed.

As soon as they were close enough, Wesker grabbed the man by the neck and squeezed.

Claire's eyes widened and she let out a gasp.

The driver inhaled painfully and clutched Wesker's arm. The small fight he put up had no effect. He took a hollow breath that rattled noisily and made Claire's hair stand up. Wesker twisted his grip sharply; there was a small _crack! _and the man fell limp.

Wesker dumped the man's body in the back of the truck, covering it with the tarp. He then walked around to the driver's side and got in.

"Why'd you do that?" Claire asked him in a trembling voice, backing into the passenger's seat.

"I don't have time for distractions," was all he said. He put the truck back into drive and continued in the direction they'd been going.


	14. Chapter 14

******_This chapter has been updated. If a chapter has not been updated, it will not have this message at the top. Beware of non-updated chapters, they may contain plot inconsistencies._**

"The White House released a statement earlier today regarding the sudden halt in international transportation; it would appear as though a bio-hazard incident has been detected on a global scale. There has been no word yet addressing the public's concern that this might be terrorism, but the closure of borders has sparked another problem concerning the refugees in South America.

"The president announced that, although greater precautions will be taken, the flow of refugees from Brazil, Argentina, and Chile will carry on as scheduled. However, it seems that protestors of the new administration have yet another argument against our most recent Foreign Action Policy.

"In a related story, the BSAA, or the Bioterrorism Security Assessment Alliance, and the international organization TerraSave, have announced that they are joining forces to investigate this new hazard. As of yet there have been no more than five reported cases of infection worldwide; however, the public is advised to remain cautious, and to report any suspicious activity to the local authorities."

"Hey, turn that damned thing off! Miss America's on!" someone shouted.

A tall man with white hair and glasses grimaced. 'Imbeciles,' he thought bitterly.

He set the remote control down and walked away. The theme song for the beauty pageant came on, and hoots and catcalls followed him out the door.

The man was pondering what he'd just learned. Worldwide infection? What would this mean? He was debating in his mind whether this was a good or bad thing when a voice came from behind him.

"Frederick Downing?" A burly guard stood near the end of the hall, looking from a clipboard to him and then back again.

"Yes?"

"You have a visitor."

The guard led him to a room in the east wing of the building. It was bright, in an artificial sort of way. Splitting the room in two was a long string of booths with polyurethane windows and black telephone receivers hanging next to them. Three of the booths were occupied, but sitting alone at one of them was a man in a dark blue suit, waiting patiently.

Taking a seat across from the stranger, Frederick reached for the receiver. The man did the same.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Downing. My name is Richard Wells," he said politely, though Frederick thought he detected a sinister air about him.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Wells. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Please, call me Richard. I have a feeling that after today, you and I are going to become close friends."

* * *

On May 16th, there would be an assassination attempt. Federal authorities will catch wind of it before-hand, and transfer him to another Facility in Pennsylvania. But he'll never get there.

Frederick had to admit, it was a believable situation, but he wasn't sure how he felt about it. Richard had seemed rather confident, but he wasn't the one about to be 'kidnapped' by an unknown group of people from a federal transport vehicle. He and this 'organization' he worked for were the only ones with anything to lose. Frederick was already serving three life sentences.

If, on the other hand, they succeeded, he would be free. What's more, he'd be guaranteed a cushy position as head researcher at one of their underground facilities. He'd be set for life.

In spite of Richard's assurances, Frederick found himself wondering how they were going to pull all of this off. How would they convince the FBI that someone was out to kill him without looking suspicious? How could they predict where they would transfer him? And why in the world had Richard been so comfortable telling him all this information so openly?

Did this organization have people on the inside? He wouldn't doubt it. Though still a bit cautious, Richard's certainty consoled him to a small degree.

Though, even if he were to escape and live out the remainder of his life in peace, he knew there was one person he had to see again.

* * *

As they approached the small cabin, Claire's jaw dropped. If the truck didn't suit him, then _this _place certainly didn't.

Wesker parked the truck in front. The area they were in was a curious one; it wasn't a desert, like what she'd seen of Africa so far. It was actually rather nice, with trees and shrubs surrounding the area; the ground seemed to have real dirt too, and not just sand. If she wasn't injured, starving, and stuck there with Wesker, the place probably wouldn't be half-bad.

They'd spent another nine hours in the car, without stopping. In addition to everything else, Claire really had to pee.

Wesker was already on her side of the car when she snapped away from her thoughts. He opened her door and held his hand out for her without a word.

She took it hesitantly and soon found herself pulled away from the vehicle within mere seconds. Slamming her door shut, Wesker lifted her up quickly and began walking toward the door.

Claire practically hissed- this was a little more than discomfort. She looked at Wesker, livid but controlled.

"Is there any particular reason why I can't _walk_?"

"Your ankle, clearly."

"That doesn't necessarily mean you have to carry me, does it?"

"This is more efficient."

"Right. Efficient." Claire grumbled to herself. Wesker didn't pay much attention to her.

Inside, the cabin was small; the kitchen wasn't much bigger than Claire's closet at home, and the bathroom had nothing more than a small toilet, sink, and bathtub packed tightly into the tiny dimensions.

From what she could tell, there were no other rooms.

There was a twin-sized bed in the corner. Wesker placed her on it before taking a pair of handcuffs and securing her to the metal frame.

"You don't think I can walk on my own, but you're cuffing me because...?" Claire asked, jiggling her wrist and effectively producing the chiming of metal on metal.

He ignored her inquiry, obviously feeling she wasn't important enough to concern himself with at present. He wasn't looking at her; he seemed more preoccupied with something on the floor.

Claire watched silently, a deadly glare all over her face, but her eyes widened when he pulled open a trap door. She hadn't noticed it at first; when closed, it looked like just another part of the floor.

"What's in there?" she asked in spite of herself.

"Nothing for you to worry on," he said, walking back outside.

She shot him a suspicious look before inspecting what she could see of the inside of the new room. What she saw wasn't much; even when she stood, the bulk of her weight on her left leg, she couldn't see anything beyond part of the floor, which appeared to be some kind of stone.

She quickly sat on the bed again when she heard sounds from outside. After a few moments, Wesker reappeared pushing a dolly in front of him. There were four boxes on it, probably the same ones containing his equipment.

He lowered himself partly into the opening, apparently standing on a ladder of some sort, before grabbing the stack of boxes in one load and slowly descending.

Claire watched with mild curiosity; Wesker seemed relatively indifferent to having to pull his own weight, but nonetheless he didn't appear used to it. She found it somewhat entertaining and observed with a smugness that she knew probably wouldn't score her any points with the man. Of course, she was fairly certain that no matter how many points she might earn there was no such thing as a magic 'jailbreak' number, so what the heck? Smile away.

He spent an awful long time in the basement. Claire has the brief image of filling it up with water and using it as a swimming pool. The thought had occurred to her that she'd rather swim in a pool filled with electronics than one with Wesker in it when he returned. She was lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He shut the trap door and entered the kitchen.

She couldn't help casting an eye in his direction every now and then; she was still more than a little paranoid, being around him. Whatever happened back at his old hideout had yet to be explained, but Claire had a feeling that whatever it was meant danger for her.

Wesker appeared to be cooking, though what he was making she couldn't tell until he set a plate next to her on the bed. Actually, even when he did that she had no idea what she was looking at.

"What's this?" she asked. It looked like gravy with chunks of meat.

"Local cuisine," he said simply. He left the cabin again, but closed the front door this time.

Claire watched him go; there a knot in her stomach, and when the door clicked shut it tightened.

She suddenly didn't feel hungry anymore and set the plate on the ground.

Wrapping herself with the blanket, Claire rolled onto her side and gazed out of the window at the sky.

_Chris; what are you doing right now?_


	15. Chapter 15

_**This chapter has been updated. If a chapter has not been updated, it will not have this message at the top. Beware of non-updated chapters, they may contain plot inconsistencies.**_

_"What's their status?"_

"They're on a train near Toulouse. At this rate they won't reach Kijuju for another ten days."

_"That's fine. We can be patient."_

"Sir, why did you allow the captain to visit Africa? I seem to recall you didn't believe Albert Wesker to be alive; if the captain is discovered, then they can trace him to the organization. Don't you consider this an unnecessary risk?"

_"You're right, naturally. You've always been rather quick on the uptake. Do you recall, eight years ago in Spain, the incident with Las Plagas and Los Illuminados?"_

"What about it?"

_"At that time, we were issuing commissions to Mr. Wesker; he completed each task flawlessly, and proved to be a real asset to the organization. However, we were sure to keep an eye on him; his history led us to believe he had his own agenda. Miss Wong was dispatched to keep him under observation, and to see if she couldn't figure out what he was up to. We soon learned of his involvement with the pharmaceutical corporation 'S'. We ordered Miss Wong to deliver the sample Las Plagas sample directly to us; it was better that S didn't get a copy of it, even if it meant Wesker learned we were on to him."_

"So you cut all ties? Why not simply kill him?"

_"That was one option, and certainly a valid one. It would have been better for us if he died before growing too powerful. But he had connections with S. Our plan was to watch him until he contacted them, or vice-versa, and we would take things from there. S is, and has always been, our priority."_

"But why?"

_"They are our only real competitors in the industry, after the fall of Umbrella; they pose the greatest threat to our organization, with Albert Wesker a distant second. Your captain and Miss Wong are well aware of our current situation; though Mr. Wesker may be dead, his contacts are still in Africa."_

"So their job is to learn what they can about S from anything Wesker left behind?"

_"Precisely."_

"And if Wesker is alive?"

_"Well, if he is it's doubtful he'd still be in Kijuju after all this time. This was why I was initially skeptical of the theory that he was the one who kidnapped that girl. Even now, I'm not very convinced."_

"So, what's your opinion concerning the missing American?"

_"I've been thinking about that; it certainly brought up some interesting questions. In fact, with recent information we've uncovered, the theory that Albert Wesker is alive has been reinforced. Not that I beleive it, but nevertheless..."_

"What did you find?"

_"Well, it would appear that the missing girl is Claire Redfield, a rather prominent member of TerraSave. She's the sister of Christopher Redfield."_

"That name... I know it from somewhere."

_"You should; he was in Kijuju at the time of the incident. He is the one who killed Mr. Wesker."_

"Right! Now I remember."

_"That's not all; he was also a member of one of Raccoon City Police Department's S.T.A.R.S. teams, serving under Wesker at the time of the Spencer Mansion incident."_

"I see."

_"The two have quite a history; it _is _a little convenient that this man's sister goes missing in the same place Albert Wesker was presumably killed."_

"What was the girl doing in Africa?"

_"Her company sent her there to investigate the deaths of two of its members; she was there for only a day before she went missing. But that's neither here nor there. Did you hear the report we received yesterday?"_

"I must've missed it."

_"One of our agents was dispatched to China to investigate some curious activity. We've uncovered an old Umbrella facility in Shanghai."_

"Really?"

_"That's right. Our men ran across some viral samples; after they were analyzed we confirmed that the samples were that of Uroboros."_

"What? But who could have gotten their hands on the sample after Kijuju? And what were they doing in China?"

_"We can't say for certain, but I have a feeling we're going to find out. Whoever left the samples behind are bound to return for them. When they do, we'll apprehend them and bring them back here."_

"All of these factors, and not to mention the release of Uroboros into the public... the timing is just so..."

_"Convenient? I agree. This can't be mere coincidence. Unfortunately, there's nothing we can do but allow things to play out the way they have been. We'll play the waiting game until this hidden factor comes out of the shadows."_

* * *

Nelson hopped out of the jeep and ran to the door, banging on it loudly and looking around suspiciously.

But the click of the lock never came.

"Oh, come on!" he groaned in frustration, kicking the door and tugging on the handle. To his surprise, it opened easily.

"What in the…" he pulled it open further. Inside was pitch black.

"Hello?" he called, feeling his way down the corridor, "Boss? You in here?"

No answer.

He tugged his flashlight from his belt and flicked it on. He was near the end of the hall now. Pointing his light in the direction of where Wesker's desk once was, Nelson gaped when he saw it was empty.

"What…?" he stared in confusion. When it finally dawned on him what must've happened, he flew into a violent frenzy.

"Goddamnit!" he shouted, throwing his light at the ground with tremendous force. "Shit!"

"Hold it!" a familiar voice shouted from behind him. Nelson paused to look, and saw three lights pointed on him.

"Don't move, Nelson!" Sheva ordered. "Drop your weapons and get your hands in the air!"

She approached him carefully, holding her handgun in one hand and a flashlight in the other. Nelson didn't move.

"Remove your weapons, now!" she ordered again.

His situation seemed to register and he held his hands in the air, "Okay; okay. You win. Let's just relax, alright?"

He slowly lifted his rifle over his head, removing the strap from his torso, and gently placed it on the ground in front of him. Next came the combat knife on his shoulder and the handgun strapped to his thigh.

"See? Nothing to worry about."

"Shut up," Sheva snapped, kicking the weapons away while Josh and Mhina brought him down. They cuffed him, planting him on his knees while observing the environment around them They needed to secure the area, Sheva knew, and left the others to check the rest of the building out.

She ran across a hall lined with doors, debating whether to enter the first one now or wait for backup. In the end she chose to check it out, prepared to back out and regroup if it looked like trouble.

Light from the hall spilled into the room, revealing very little to her. She felt for a light-switch and turned it on.

"Oh... wow," she stared wide-eyed at the scene before her. Everything was in complete ruin, with twisted metal buried under large chunks of concrete and complete sections of wall missing. Parts of the the floor had been gouged and even the ceiling was pitted in places.

"What is it?" she heard the distant sound of Josh's voice, and footsteps from behind. When he entered the room, he bore a similar reaction.

"This place is trashed! What happened in here?"

"I don't know; it doesn't make any sense. The rest of the building isn't anything like this," she responded. Was this even important? It could be, but she wasn't sure.

"What do we do now?"

Sheva thought hard, "I think it's time we called Chris. He' s got to be tearing himself up right now."


	16. Chapter 16

_**This chapter has been updated. If a chapter has not been updated, it will not have this message at the top. Beware of non-updated chapters, they may contain plot inconsistencies.**_

Wesker re-entered several hours later. Claire had fallen into a fitful sleep, it seemed.

He observed her carefully. She'd need a shower, and some proper attention to that wound of hers... but he'd worry about that tomorrow. Now, he had business to take care of.

He entered the cellar and closed the trapdoor; his equipment had yet to be assembled, but that wouldn't take long. He removed his laptop from its case and secured an outside connection; he needed to get in touch with S.

* * *

"I don't understand this!" Rebecca exclaimed. She was sitting in an office chair in her living room. Billy, who had been drinking a beer and watching baseball, looked over at her.

"What's wrong?"

"C'mere; look at this." Billy got off the couch and peeked over her shoulder.

"Do you see all of these e-mails? They're all reports of Uroboros outbreaks. There were only twelve so far, yesterday. Now the number is in the hundreds."

"What?" Billy's eyes widened. "That can't be possible!"

"The infection rate is increasing exponentially. Whatever the hell's going on, we need to stop it."

"You think Yates knows?"

"I'm sure he does. He's probably losing his mind."

* * *

"Sheva? What's new?"

"Chris, you remember Mhina, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, he ID'd the guy who took your sister. He's in custody now."

Chris was silent for a moment.

"Chris? Did you hear me?"

"Yeah, I heard. Has he said anything yet?"

"He's not talking now, but he led us to an old facility nearby. We have people combing it over now for any information. I think it's safe to say our guy was working with someone."

"Any idea who?"

"We won't know that until the report comes back from that facility."

"Oh. Okay."

"So what's going on at HQ? What's this I hear about an outbreak?"

"Well, apparently Uroboros leaked out of Africa."

"I heard as much."

"The number of infected have been on the rise since the first one was discovered yesterday in Virginia. Now every country in the world has at least ten or more reported infections, and all of them want us to come in and save the day."

"Guess foreign policy's been thrown out the window, huh?"

"Pretty much. Yates is going nuts; if he's not trying to get a hold of the president, he's in a screaming match with foreign ambassadors. What's more, they all want the best, which, according to them, happens to be us."

"Who's 'us'?"

"You, me, Jill; you know, people with experience."

"So chances are we're going to get shipped off to some other country?"

"Well, the good news is all of these nations have been donating money like crazy trying to get in our favor. There's already several billion dollars coming in from China, France, and Germany combined. Adding up everything else, we've got a couple trillion dollars in the bank."

"Good God," Sheva replied. The world was going mad.

"Tell me about it."

"I'm guessing this means you're no longer suspended."

"Nope; in fact, China and Japan are currently fighting over who gets me. Though I'd rather head back to Africa, myself."

"You know your boss probably isn't going to allow that."

"He will if I threaten to quit."

"Chris, you wouldn't!"

"You bet I would. I'm not stopping until I get Claire back. I can do my job _and_ keep searching for her if I head back to Kijuju."

"You really think it'll work?"

"I don't see a reason why not. Anyway, there are plenty of people with just as much experience as myself; they can go to China, or Japan, or wherever."

Sheva sounded uncertain, "Chris, are you sure now's the best time? The world needs you; what would your sister say?"

"I'm not just going to leave her there-"

"You're _not_ just leaving her here. _I'm_ looking, remember?"

Chris took a breath, "I'm not trying to insult you Sheva. I just know I'd feel better if I was there."

"I understand, and I'm not offended. I just don't want you to get too upset if things don't work out the way you want. Just don't forget I'm still here and I'm not giving up, okay?"

Chris was silent for a second or two. "Yeah. Yeah, I know. Thanks, Sheva."

* * *

Leon gazed out of the window of the helicopter, bored. He wasn't sure why the president wanted to see him, but he was guessing it had something to do with the recent outbreak.

In ten minutes, they were in hovering over the white house's helipad, descending carefully. He looked out of the window and saw Ashley bouncing and waving at him.

He smiled and waved back, a little relieved that he wouldn't be facing the president alone. Political functions were never his strong suit.

"Leon!" Ashley beamed, running up and hugging him. There was a personal detail behind her- they seemed uneasy at her closeness but didn't outwardly react. "It's good to see you again!"

"It's good to see you too," Leon replied, patting her on the head before letting her go.

Leon had been relieved of his duty as guard of the president's family ever since Ashley's father resigned from office in 2005. Though he had provided no official reason for his resignation, Leon figured the man was probably trying to piece his family back together after his daughter's abduction.

Now, seven years later, he was back in office; this time as vice president. An extremely patriotic man, he must have felt he still had a job to do and re-established his presence in the world of politics.

"This way; daddy's downstairs," Ashley informed him, leading him toward a large white door. Her guards followed them.

* * *

"Mr. Kennedy; I'm so glad you could make it on such short notice."

They were standing in the oval office. Ashley had been asked to wait elsewhere. Her father was sitting on a striped red and white sofa; the president, a tall man with slick black hair and an oversized nose, was sitting behind his desk.

"I didn't really have much of choice, did I?" Leon responded. He was missing out on his vacation right now.

"No, I suppose not. Let me get straight to the point. You're aware of our current position in South America, right?"

"I haven't exactly been keeping up with the war," Leon answered. He'd only just started watching the news; ever since Chris told him about Claire, he'd been doing his own investigations. Part of the reason why he was so sore about having to postpone his vacation was because he'd been planning on going to Africa.

"Well, things have taken a turn for the worse. A group of Geurilla operatives attacked the military outpost where we were temporarily holding refugees. Now all of those people are being held hostage. The South American government has asked for our help in their release."

"Why can't they do it themselves?"

"Their military is weak, even with the countries combining their forces. They can't afford to spare any efforts away from the war; they don't have the manpower. It would be too risky."

"I don't see what this has to do with me."

The president folded his hands together. "Mr. Kennedy, we face a difficult decision; as you know, the refugee policy has sparked a tremendous political backlash. Public support for the movement has dropped nearly forty percent; we've had the rug pulled right out from under our feet."

"But you can't pull out of Argentina because we need South America backing us up when we confront the problems in Mexico."

"That's right. We're all set to move in, but we've recently learned that the incidence of Uroboros infection has increased dramatically in that area. As a precaution, we're asking you to act as an adviser of sorts and show our boys how to deal with a bio-hazard."

Leon thought for a moment, "Wouldn't the BSAA be better suited for this job?"

"They're a bit busy at the moment. Besides; we're only sending in thirty men."

"What?" Leon narrowed his eyes.

"This is to prevent increasing the number of infectees."

"I can understand that, but this is a _war_. I think the circumstances call for a bit more than-"

"Mr. Kennedy, I didn't call you here to debate political or military matters. The decision has been made; with your help, we can increase the probability of success. You may decline the offer, but I wouldn't advise it," the man's eyes held a fierce glint.

"Now, Robert-" Ashley's father started, but stopped himself. The president's gaze was fixed on Leon.

"Fine," Leon sighed in resignation. "I'll do it."

The president smiled, "There; I knew you'd help. You can return home tonight; be ready to leave tomorrow morning. We'll have an escort waiting for you. That should be all."

Leon wasn't very happy. He left the office quickly, with Ashley following close behind.

"You okay, Leon?"

"I'm fine. I'm not exactly fond of being ordered around, that's all."

"Mr. Miller's been so grumpy lately," she sighed. "You know, he used to be really nice, but he's getting worse. And now I'm starting to worry about dad."

"What do you mean?"

"He's been staying up awfully late. He barely gets any sleep anymore, he's been doing so much work."

"Huh. Well, if he gets any worse make him see a doctor," Leon told her.

She smiled, "Will do." She gave him a comical salute, which he mirrored before hopping onto the helicopter.

"Good luck, Leon!" Ashley waved as the craft lifted into the air. Leon watched her figure shrink until she was nothing more than a tiny pink dot in the distance. He then turned to face forward, watching as they whizzed over the busy city of Washington D.C.

It was going to be a long week.

* * *

_"It's all about power. The right, as genetically superior beings, to govern the world. With the research we conduct, we shall accomplish just that."_

_"But you said the progenitor virus wasn't completely stable."_

_"Ah, but that's the glory of genetics; things can always be altered."_

It was true. Organic matter could always be improved upon. Everything Spencer had ever told him had been proven through the man's actions.

What had happened to Spencer? Years ago, he had a feeling; there had been a moment of excruciating pain, and then... the connection was gone. That nagging sixth sense, always pointing him in one direction or another, trying to bring him closer to his old master, had vanished.

At first, he hadn't exactly realized what happened. He'd lived with the sensation for so long he'd grown accustomed to it, and for a while it was as if it had never existed. With its disappearance, however, there had been an empty feeling, like something was missing.

He gathered that Spencer must have died. The pain he felt; whether that was an indicator of how he had met his end, or if it was simply what one experienced when their connection breaks, he couldn't say. However, he would be lying if he said he was surprised by Spencer's death; the man was old, and sick.

A quick _beep! _pulled him away from his thoughts and he reached for his phone.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry to disturb you, but there's been a problem. Our Shanghai facility has been discovered."

"There; see? Didn't I tell you that would happen?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry to report that the intruders have our Uroboros samples."

"Not to worry. There was nothing essential in that laboratory. I'm done with Uroboros; we're moving on to Project K. Go ahead and pull out of China."

"Yes, sir."

His plan was in the first stages. Uroboros would lay the groundwork for the next phase of his plans. Via products of the worldwide Pharmecutical Corporation, S, Uroboros had been exposed to the world in miniscule amounts, making people less likely to die from exposure. They would develop an immunity to it over time, and at that stage he could release Project K.

It was the same process he had gone through. He learned that by combining Uroboros with the K-virus, he could substantially increase the success rate of proper infection.

Alex Wesker looked across the vast landscape of his estate; it was all his, but it wasn't enough. The whole world should belong to him. K would realize his dream, and soon the world would understand exactly how important genetics were.


	17. Chapter 17

**_This chapter has been updated. If a chapter has not been updated, it will not have this message at the top. Beware of non-updated chapters, they may contain plot inconsistencies._ **

**o.O Sparkles apparently got her hands on a review bomb... and used it. I've been wondering where she ran off to these last couple of weeks...**

**Okay; another explanation time.**

**Alex Wesker... not much is known about him, and the little information that is out there is unverified. Apparently, he was a subject of the Wesker Children Project, and eventually was appointed director. I guess he was working on a virus for Spencer that held the 'secret to immortality'. He ended up betraying Spencer and making off with his discoveries, but not before telling him that the project had been a success.**

**There wasn't a name listed for this virus, so I've dubbed it 'Project K'. I don't know why; X was cheesy, I couldn't use any letter with a long 'e' sound thanks to 't' and 'g', and so I just picked a random letter that fit the criteria. Anyway, my source was Resident Evil Wiki; if anyone has a better source, or knows something about Alex that isn't in his article, PLEASE TELL ME. I want to know so bad...!**

**Right-O! Story time...**

"Sheva, I don't know what the hell you were thinking. Do you realize what you've done?"

"But he kidnapped Claire!"

"We don't know that. All we have is Mhina's testimony; it's his word against Nelson's. Besides, you weren't even supposed to get involved!"

"You think the local cops are going to do anything! Law enforcement in this country is a joke!"

"That may be true, but that doesn't mean you can go taking the law into your own hands! For Christ's sake, you _beat _the man!"

"_I _didn't beat anyone."

"Then who _did_?"

"Ah- erm..." Sheva stuttered. She wasn't sure if she wanted to get Rashid and Pili in trouble; after all, they were ultimately fighting the good fight.

"Sheva, what have you gotten yourself into?" Fisk shook his head. "Big brother's gonna be breathing down our necks. You got lucky with the current political climate; nobody wants to do anything to the BSAA these days; particularly veterans like yourself. Regardless, you can only cross the line so many times. You get in too much trouble, I won't be able to help you."

"I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself."

Fisk sighed, "I sure hope so."

* * *

"I'm in need of supplies."

"Of course, sir. One moment," Wesker tapped his fingers impatiently. A brown-haired woman was looking away from the camera, apparently typing something on her keyboard. Suddenly a small window popped up on Wesker's computer. "You're identification and pass codes, please," her voice returned.

Wesker entered his information into the box and submitted it.

"Thank you. I'll transfer you now."

His screen suddenly turned blue, a small hourglass in the center of the screen. After a few moments an inventory screen popped up.

He knew he couldn't have the items delivered directly to the cabin; it would be too risky. The Organization would be watching for things like that. Instead, he would send them to a small hospital and have them delivered there. While he was there, he could have the Redfield girl receive proper attention.

The Organization had eyes everywhere; it was also part of the reason why he couldn't order supplies while at the interment facility, or any of his other previous hideouts. There was no place to send them that wouldn't come off as suspicious.

At any rate, once the delivery was made, he'd have everything he needed.

* * *

"Well, well... it appears Albert's still alive. I wondered if that was the case. Where's his signal coming from?"

"He's still in West Africa. He's issued a request for large amounts of clement Y and deoxyThymidine TriPhosphate ribonucleotide."

"Hmm..." Alex said more to himself than to the man behind the computer, "If that's the case, then it would seem as though he's been going all this time without the serum. Interesting; and here I thought he'd simply found another supplier."

"Should we proceed?"

Alex nodded, "Yes. Send him whatever he requires. He's still useful to us, and I'd certainly hate for him to think 'his' company has turned their back on him."

"Yes, sir."

Alex didn't stay in the room. He turned and left, planning to visit the gardens.

As he walked, he thought. If Albert was willing to risk discovery in order to get his hands on the serum, then he must be desperate. Uroboros isn't very friendly to those who can't keep it under control. _I wish I could see what's happening; he'd certainly make an interesting specimen..._

* * *

Wesker had just opened a connection to the internet when something caught his eye; the headline to a news article.

"Terror Strikes the Planet: Bio-hazard incident up to 3,000 victims."

He followed the link.

"As we approach the third day since the initial discovery of what has become a biological disaster, tension has steadily risen between the nations. China has now fingered the U.S. government as the instigators of the outbreak, and has demanded the return of funds they donated to the Bio-terrorism Security Assessment Alliance, an multinational paramilitary organization which found its origins in America and placed it's headquarters in Connecticut.

"The country's current prime minister, Xu Li Wang, released the following statement; 'It is our belief that this recent and tragic incident was nothing short of a plot concocted by the government of the United States of America in order to receive political and monetary gains. We are requesting the return of our donations in the hopes that our two nations may reach a civil agreement.'

"Other countries seem to have followed China's example, in spite of the president's vehement denial of the U.S. government's involvement with the incident. Now U.S. citizens are having their doubts, as after repeated inquiries concerning the nature of this threat, the government has yet to release any information.

"As one enraged activist put it, 'This is completely unconstitutional. We have a right to know what we're up against and how to protect ourselves! This isn't as simple as Raccoon City; we can't just blow up the entire planet!'

"Protest rallies have been on the rise ever since the incident began; we're now seeing as many as 500,000 protestors marching through Washington D.C. Neither the president nor the vice president had any comment to make on the matter, but as this issue grows a statement is to be expected soon."

His eyes narrowed. A biological incident? Why hadn't he learned of this sooner?

He pulled up another window, intent upon finding more.


	18. Chapter 18

**_This chapter has been updated. If a chapter has not been updated, it will not have this message at the top. Beware of non-updated chapters, they may contain plot inconsistencies._ **

**Sorry; I know I've been dragging my feet on this chapter. I have no excuse.**

**You'll be happy to know, however, that this is the longest chapter to date.**

_"A life is never a good thing to waste. Everyone should die with a purpose; to deny someone of that is call into question your own motives."_

_"How?"_

_"Take our friend David here, for example," Spencer stopped walking and gestured to the inside of a small room. The body of a man was laying on a stretcher, held down by restraints._

_"Is he dead?" Albert asked. His young eyes gave a small glint of curiosity, and the man beside him gave an approving smile._

_"No; not yet. He's been injected with the progenitor virus; this is where we observe his mutations. He used to work for us, until we discovered he was selling information. This is the fate of traitors. We don't kill them; we use every resource to its fullest potential. If our goal is ultimately to develop a virus that will bring humanity into a new era, then we must be sure we take every opportunity to achieve that. If we had killed him immediately, he wouldn't do us any good; he would do the world no good."_

Wesker's thoughts briefly turned to the girl upstairs.

He'd known how he would use her; he would eliminate Chris once and for all, posing as a kidnapper holding the girl for ransom. When Chris arrived to retrieve her...

But he'd have to wait until his supplies arrived, which, he had recently discovered, would be another two weeks, thanks to the closure of the borders.

The public hadn't been made aware of exactly what infection had been leaked; there were only symptoms in order to aid the public in spotting someone infected. Based on that information, however, he'd been able to gather that it was Uroboros causing all of the trouble.

The leak either came from S or the organization. There was no other possibility- Tricell was under serious observation; even if they had successfully managed to hold on to some samples without TerraSave's knowledge, there's no way they could use them. Not only that, but the BSAA's lock-down of Kijuju had been airtight; they made certain to prevent the parasite from spreading, leaving zero chance that this was just an accident.

What reason would the organization have to release Uroboros? Their only real motive was money; was it possible they were pulling a stunt like WilPharma and getting in the public's favor by coming to the rescue?

Doubtful; as powerful as they were, they wouldn't dare risk everything over such a scheme. Theirs was a company that worked in the shadows; this wasn't like them.

That only left S. But then, why?

S was currently working under his direction; they shouldn't have made any moves without consulting him first. Did this mean someone else had taken power during his absence?

The thought made him seethe; this was _his _company.

He tapped the mousepad on his laptop and pulled up a new window. It's about time he caught up on everything that happened while he was gone.

* * *

"I'm not very keen on this," Nicholai grunted, pulling himself up the remainder of the ladder. Ada was already on top of the abandoned structure; now they just needed to cross the border without drawing any attention.

"What's the matter?" she said teasingly, "Can't keep up?" Before her partner could respond, she pulled out her grapple gun and launched herself easily through the dark to the nearest building- in Spain.

The Russian looked uncertainly at the gap before him. When his phone beeped he flipped it open.

"This some kind of joke?"

"Not at all. Why; do you feel like laughing?" Ada asked in a playful tone.

"That little trick might work for you, but they'll see me," he said, referring to the border patrol a mere twenty feet below.

"Well, I suppose if you asked them_ very _nicely-"

"Oh, shut up," he spat and closed his phone. He pulled his own grapple hook from his belt and launched it toward the same building Ada was on. He gave a small smirk when hook narrowly missed her head.

Prepping himself for what was to come, he backed away from the ledge to give himself room. Taking a deep breath, he sprinted toward the edge of the structure and vaulted himself upward, pulling the gun's trigger. The wall of the next building grew closer.

He clung to the line with both hands; his body weight had forced him down some, so when he reached his destination he had to scale the remaining stretch of wall.

"See? Not as hard as you made it sound," Ada commented dryly.

"We're lucky I wasn't seen," he practically growled, holstering the gun.

Looking below them, Ada observed several frantic-looking soldiers scurrying about and pointing in her direction. "I don't think we've been so blessed."

Nicholai looked too, "Goddamnit! I told you that would happen."

"No time for that now. Let's get out of here," she said quickly, running to the other side of the roof.

"Hmph." Nicholai followed her, clearly annoyed.

* * *

Frederic was a nervous wreck.

He and roughly fifteen others were being transported on a bus; this was when Richard had told him his escape would be made.

Every time they ran over a pothole, he jumped. Why wouldn't they just do it already?

Of course, 'it' was the keyword. What exactly were they going to do? How would they pull this off?

"Mr. Downing," the man in the seat behind him whispered, tapping his shoulder.

"Huh?" Frederic tried to face his addressor.

"Don't turn around," the man said hurriedly, effectively stopping Frederic's head from moving any further.

"Who are you?"

"It's my job to make sure you remain safe. Follow my instruction and everything will turn out fine."

"What do you mean? What's going to happen?" Frederic asked.

"Shh... Don't draw attention. Just stay calm."

The man leaned back into his seat, leaving Frederic with his thoughts. His words had only served to put him even further on edge.

* * *

"Good morning, America; this is George Faber with more on last night's breaking news. A federal transport was attacked at roughly ten-thirty last night while transferring convicts from the Devens Maximum Security Facility in Massachusetts. Investigators have released no information other than the identity of the convicts who successfully escaped from the vehicle."

Leon wasn't really listening. He tugged open his fridge and grabbed the milk carton. He was leaving in an hour.

The television was broadcasting profiles of men in orange jumpsuits while a news reporter went over their information. Leon was reaching for a glass in his cupboard when he heard a familiar name.

"-was convicted of mass production of biological weapons with the intent to distribute, as well as multiple counts of bio-terrorism, manslaughter, and attempted murder. He is described as 5'11, with silver hair, of slight build-"

Leon slowly turned to the television set. Frederic Downing's face was covering half of the screen; the other half had his description.

"No way..."

He picked his phone off the counter and searched through his contacts. When he found the right one, he entered the number, "Hunnigan; you there?"

There was some shuffling, and he could her a click; a bedside lamp? "Leon? What is it?"

"Did you see the news?"

Hunnigan sounded unhappy, "I was sleeping."

"Frederic Downing broke out of prison."

"The head researcher from WilPharma?"

"The same. I was wondering if you could find out anything."

"Sure thing Leon. I'll update you once I know something."

"Thanks."

"No problem. Hey; you have a job today, right?"

"Today and every day for the next week-and-a-half."

"Well it's 5:30; you'd better get ready. The IPO doesn't like strangers; they probably aren't very happy, being forced to work with a government agent. You wouldn't want to be late."

"Thanks for the warning. Since I have you, how goes the search for Claire?"

"Sorry. I tried, but with the recent panic it's doubtful we'll be able to send investigators in. This is probably going to be left to the local authorities."

His heart sunk.

"'Kay. Thanks."

"Sure thing. I'll talk to you later. Tell me how the training goes."

"I will." He hung up unenthusiastically.

He knew that ultimately his duty was more important; that when it came down to it, hundreds of refugees' lives were more important than Claire's. He had a feeling Claire herself would agree with the sentiment.

Nevertheless, he felt like he was wasting his time; whoever these IPO guys were, they weren't going to listen to him. They'd just resent his presence and ignore what he had to say. That's how it always was; regardless of what someone tells you, you never believe it until you deal with it first-hand. That's the danger of sentient B.O.W.s; no one can wrap their head around the fact that they aren't human anymore, until they try to kill you.

And by then it's usually too late.

Leon suddenly didn't feel very thirsty, and put the milk back in the fridge.

Walking into his bedroom, he saw his handgun lying on his nightstand. He picked it up and began to disassemble it while his thoughts wandered.

This recent outbreak, along with Claire's disappearance... just when international relationships reach a breaking point, the virus is released, causing major setbacks in America's involvement in the war in South America. In addition, stocks of every pharmaceutical corporation worldwide hits bottom, while at the same time the development of nuclear weapons and military forces in every country has increased dramatically.

All of this happened immediately after Mexico got their hands on nuclear arms and began testing them illegally, violating the Nuclear Test Ban Treaty. Although the United Nations had warned them on two separate occasions to stop testing at the threat of military involvement, the Mexican government had ignored the warnings and continued to test their weapons.

And just as the U.N. prepares to invade the country and put a halt to their activities by force, a greater crisis rises, refocusing the world's priorities.

There was so much going on; he couldn't decide which issue he should be most worried about. All of this added up to something, but Leon couldn't seem to figure out _what_.

* * *

"You're such a slob."

Chris' voice caused her to stir.

Blinking tiredly, Claire looked around. She was still inside the cabin, but something was different. The room now had a round table in the middle, right above where the trap door should be.

Her brother was sitting at the table with several cards fanned out in his hand; Wesker was sitting across from him in a similar fashion.

"Chr- Chris...?" Claire hoisted herself up on her elbow, not believing the scene before her.

"Straight flush," Wesker said, rather docile.

"Ah, hell." Chris dropped his cards on the table. Wesker smirked and pulled the pot to himself.

"What- what's going on? Chris, what are you doing here?"

"You're such a slob," he said again, facing her. He smiled playfully at her, making her feel safe and warm, as if Wesker wasn't even there.

Claire's eyes widened, however, when their blond enemy stood from the table and raised his hand. Chris didn't even seem to notice as an oily black tentacle slid from Wesker's sleeve.

"Chris; look out!" Claire shrieked, but her brother only smiled.

"I love you, Claire," he said warmly. The tentacle coiled back, "I love you," and shot forth, "My little baby sister."

She couldn't speak; Wesker was holding Chris by the neck.

"I- I love you... Claire," he choked out, struggling against Wesker's grip, only serving to make his situation worse.

There was a sickening _crunch! _and Chris suddenly stopped fighting.

She was paralyzed; Wesker released her brother's body, and it slumped to the floor lifelessly.

She couldn't pull her eyes away; the blond man was moving in her direction now.

Something slimy touched her arm; a tentacle. Claire didn't move; the body changed from Chris to Leon.

A tear slid down her cheek. Another tentacle held her other arm. The body turned into Jill.

"No..." more tentacles; it seemed as though the more aware she became, the less she could move. The body turned into Steve.

"Please..." she was begging, now. Rani was lying dead before her, and then Barry; Sherry, Rebecca, Carlos, Billy, Sheva. More faces; so many faces. The tentacles coiled their way around her, gripping her tightly; suffocating her. She saw herself lying there.

"No!" she tried to scream; to fight. She was feeling pain now. _Remember your promise..._

"Chris..." she whispered, feeling helpless.

_"I'm going to let you live a little longer..."_

She felt and then could not feel; her eyes were unable to see, her lungs unable to breathe. She heard Wesker's laugh echo in her mind, and dizzily she swayed until something held her head.

She was forced to face him; his eyes were gold and red, and he smelled like blood.

"If they can't survive," he began, sliding the razor edge of blackness along her throat, "then they deserve death."

Claire shot forward, breathing heavily. She patted her arms and legs, frantic, but relieved to find nothing there. Her heart was pounding, and her hands shook.

She felt crushed under the weight of sheer terror; though in all of her encounters with Umbrella's byproducts fear had always been present, it had been accompanied by the will to survive and to protect. This time, there was no one else with whom to share sorrow, or fear. And although her defiant nature and strong willpower remained to some extent, they were weakened; possibly even vanishing.

The overwhelming sensation of hopelessness returned to her, and she could do nothing to dispel it. Now, it seemed to Claire, even her dreams were a danger.


	19. Chapter 19

**_This chapter has been updated. If a chapter has not been updated, it will not have this message at the top. Beware of non-updated chapters, they may contain plot inconsistencies._ **

**Words... so many words!**

**Sorry; feeling a little dramatic.**

**Haha! I beat Code: Veronica! I also beat RE4, but I did that a long time ago. Now I'm on to Dead Aim; wish me luck~!**

System loading. Please wait...

Please enter login and passcode.

Login: _MSD6377_

Passcode: _Rk59877-13_

Loading Account Information...

Good evening, Albert Wesker.

_-Control Panel_

_-Archives_

Accessing Archives...

Please select a command from the following list:

_Account History_

_-Communication History_

_Files and Folders_

_Network_

_Programs_

Loading Communication History...

Please enter File Date or Name

File: _6/9/2012_

Searching...

1 Result

_-Log: 6/9/2012 - Code S_

Downloading File...

Download Complete.

Exit search.

Exit Communication History.

Exit Archives.

Control Panel

_-Security_

_-MalTech Virus Protection_

MalTech Status: Enabled

_-Disable_

WARNING: Disabling software may put your computer at risk. Disable MalTech Software?

_-Confirm_

Software disabled.

Exit MalTech Virus Protection.

Exit Security.

Exit Control Panel.

_-Online Connection_

_-Outgoing messages_

_-New Message_

Address: _thiemensc (a) terrasavenonprofit . Org_

Subject: its claire

Message: wesker is alive and in africa. see if you can't trace this signal.

_-Attach File_

_-Browse Files_

_-Log – 6/9/2012: Code S_

_-Select_

Uploading file...

Upload complete.

_-Send Message_

Message Sent.

-_Outgoing Messages_

_-Sent_

Address: _silasg (a) medtech . com_

Subject: its claire

Resend message?

_-Confirm_

Message sent.

Exit Outgoing Messages.

Exit Online Connection.

Gazing carefully at his handiwork, Alex folded his hands. If everything worked out right, within three hours Albert would be in custody. The signal would bring not only the attention of the BSAA, but the Organization as well.

By hacking into Albert's computer and posing as the missing girl, he would be able to eliminate one pest while misleading the other. Two birds with one stone.

He hadn't wanted to resort to this so soon, but Albert had been snooping around. Quite an unfortunate development, as this gave him less time to prepare.

Nevertheless, time was something he had been sure to use wisely. With everyone's attention on Albert, he could release K without any problems.

Things were coming together quite nicely.

* * *

_"Beep!" _Her phone lit up.

'Not now...' Ada thought tiredly. She was sprinting along a fire escape, with Nicholai right on her heels.

"Shit!" he cursed suddenly; the soldiers had begun to open fire.

"In here!" Ada ducked into a window, and her partner followed. They were standing on the second story of a warehouse.

"Where now?"

"If we can get to the sewer line, we should be able to lose them."

"Why didn't we just cross the border through the sewers _to begin with?_"

"Please; you don't think these guys are that stupid, do you?" Ada started. She stopped when the shouts of soldiers below caught her attention. "Let's get out of here."

"Yeah."

The two moved quickly to the ground floor. Just as they reached an exit, a loud crash came from another room.

"We need to lose them!" Nicholai shouted, slamming his shoulder against a wooden door. The door splintered into pieces, revealing an deserted alleyway.

They ran down the path until they spotted a circular grate. The Russian bent down to move it aside, grunting as he worked. Ada held her gun, poised toward the building from which soldiers were going to appear any moment.

There was a metallic scraping sound from behind her, and a _thump! _when her partner dropped the plate on the ground.

"Come on!" she didn't need to be told twice. Hopping inside the tunnel, Ada kept her guard up while Nicholai replaced the grate. He dropped down beside her and drew his own weapon.

Without speaking, they moved stealthily away from the scene.

They had been walking for roughly ten minutes when Ada's phone beeped again.

"Oh, what is it?" she said bitterly, pulling it out and checking her messages. She had received a file; it was a map.

The words 'Your new destination' were typed in the message field.

"Let me see," Nicholai said, pulling the phone from her hands. When he saw the message, he smirked, "I knew it! I _knew _it! He's still alive!"

"Not much of a shock," Ada said, swiping her device back. "The man's certainly capable of taking care of himself. Why do you care so much that he's alive, anyway?"

Nicholai paused for a moment, appearing to think. "That's none of your concern," he said finally, holstering his weapon. "Let's just go."

Ada looked at his retreating figure suspiciously and followed.

* * *

"So you're the guy everyone's been making such a fuss over? You don't look like much."

Leon didn't respond to the comment. There were a few dozen men in the room, all of them regarding him with an acute distaste.

"Look; we ain't up to dealing with some goddamn GI on a power-trip. If you've got something useful to say, then say it; otherwise, just stay out of our way."

The man speaking crossed his arms; he seemed to be the leader of the group. Leon looked at him, almost bored. He knew the resentment these men were feeling all too well; it was something he'd felt himself whenever a superior second-guessed his abilities. All the same, he knew too large an ego could be fatal; showing them exactly where they stood was in their best interests.

And with that thought, Leon darted toward the leader quickly, ducking the bulk of his body low while striking the man's abdomen with a high-kick.

The man hadn't been expecting it and stumbled backward, clutching his side. He gave a grimace and lunged at Leon. It was an automatic response, and one to be expected.

Leon dodged, grabbing the man's arm and twisting it around and behind his back.

His knees buckled, and though the most he felt was some discomfort, he didn't appear very happy. He was trying fruitlessly to free himself from the grip, but this hold employed leverage, not strength, placing Leon at an advantage. The other men had taken a step toward the two, ready to intervene, when Leon let the man go.

"If I were infected, you'd be a goner," he said harshly, glaring down at the man and then to the group.

"I'm not here to piss you off; I'm here to make sure that you don't botch the job and cause one of the worst disasters in this world's history. You don't understand what you're up against; I've been there, and seen more than I care to recall at the moment. Take it from me; you're not ready. That's why I'm here," Leon released the man and hoisted him up. "I don't plan on treating you like a bunch of kindergarteners. You already know how to survive, and you know every combat technique in the book. What you haven't learned is how to avoid infection, and as long as that remains the case, the rest of your knowledge is moot. So how about this; I'll teach you what I know, and you'll do your damnedest to learn it and move on."

**Wow... in the course of writing this chapter, I successfully beat Dead Aim. Talk about anti-climactic...**

**Anyway, cookies to anyone who can figure out where I got Wesker's login number from. And no, it's not a youtube account.**

**Okay; Fanfiction is being a little dumb; sorry about chris' messed up e-mail, but it's all the site will allow. You should all know what its supposed to be; I won't sweat over it.**


	20. Chapter 20

**_This chapter has been updated. If a chapter has not been updated, it will not have this message at the top. Beware of non-updated chapters, they may contain plot inconsistencies._ **

**Cookies to Nymphe, who figured out Wesker's ID number!**

**Okay; on to chapter twenty!**

"Sheva! Sheva; wait up a sec!" Fisk was sprinting after she and Joshua; they'd just left Mhina and were walking back to the tents when he spotted them.

They turned, looks of alarm on each of their faces, when their superior slowed to a halt a few feet away and doubled over to catch his breath.

"Boss? What's going on?" Josh asked.

"We... just got... an e-mail... from HQ. Here," he pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to Sheva. It was a Com Unit; something soldiers in the field were often equipped with. It was preferred to cell phones because they behaved like hand-held transceivers, operating on a radio frequency as opposed to relying on a network. This made them harder run interference on without putting up great risks.

Sheva looked at the document Fisk had indicated. It read:

_"We received this today; take a look at it._

_'wesker is alive and in africa. see if you can't trace this signal.'_

_This file was attatched to the message: Log – 6/9/2012: Code S"_

She opened the document and almost dropped the device.

"_I'm in need of supplies._"

"_Of course, sir. One moment._"

It was a video of Wesker.

"Hey; what is it?" Josh peeked over her shoulder. He gaped when he saw the man in the video, "Is that who I think it is?"

Sheva's eyes never left the screen.

"He's alive."

* * *

No news yet, according to Yates. At least, nothing he cared about.

He'd been filled in on the discoveries which occurred in his absence; Uroboros' leak, the global panic, the almost exponential pressure being heaved on America. It had also been made clear that Chris would not be returning to Africa, under _any_ circumstances.

When he'd threatened to quit, Yates had called his bluff. He'd been cornered with all kinds of crap; how Claire would _want _him to continue with his work, _their _work, how the world can't afford to lose such a valuable asset, how everyone, including his sister, would be in danger of extinction without his help. Chris knew the whole spiel backwards.

Yates had him under tight watch. His boss knew him too well; he put a lock-down on communication between certain divisions of the Alliance, ensuring that any news of Claire would be passed to Chris only through himself. This meant that Chris would know only what Yates wanted him to.

He wasn't going to stand for that, but it was clear arguing would get him nowhere. His only option would be something a little more... subtle.

For now, however, it appeared that his services had already been sold- to Mexico. He'd be heading just south of the border tomorrow.

* * *

Claire was still asleep when he returned.

He had been placing surveillance cameras nearby; now he just needed to connect them to his network, and everything would be set.

When he entered the office beneath the cabin, however, he noticed his account was already open.

He approached his laptop suspiciously when a small bubble appeared in the corner of the screen.

_Your computer may be at risk. Click here for more information._

He followed the shortcut to a new window; his security software had been disabled.

Frowning, he pulled up another window, labeled 'Recent Activity'.

Someone had sent an e-mail from his computer.

Before he could open the message, he heard some strange shuffling nearby; someone was outside. His eyes widened when he realized what must have occurred.

* * *

Claire gazed at the wall in front of her. She'd been feigning sleep, hoping to avoid confrontation with her blond enemy.

That nightmare was still fresh in her mind, and she was a little uneasy. She just couldn't seem to shake the images of her dead comrades...

All of a sudden something crashed above her head; she was showered with glass. A man in a black combat suit rolled in with a loud _thump! _on the floor.

"What in the-?" Claire stared, confused. The man whirled on his heels, surveying the environment, before turning to her.

"Miss Redfield; we're here to bring you home," he said. He was wearing a gas mask; she couldn't see his face.

"W-what?"

She couldn't believe what she was seeing. An elated, yet cautious emotion swept over her. A friendly face, it was scarcely believable! They'd managed to track her down!

But dread soon accompanied the surge of joy she'd felt. She saw the trap door fly open, and Wesker emerged.

"Behind you! Get out of the way!"

Her warning hadn't arrived soon enough; the man was lifted off his feet and thrown aside. He hit the floor and didn't move again.

Wesker didn't waste any time. He moved swiftly to Claire, unlocking the side of the handcuffs hooked to the bed frame and closing it around her other wrist. It took him about three seconds.

More windows shattered; more men flew in. The immobile man on the floor and Claire in restraints was all they needed to see before opening fire on Wesker.

Claire thought he was going to dodge or run for cover, but to her surprise he took every shot, standing his ground. She looked from her rescuers to her captor, uneasily inching from him as he shuddered in a raspy, pained manner. She saw his eyes change, a blackness overcame his sclera while the iris became fire. It was enough to steal her breath, and send her screaming at the others to run.

They took uncertain steps, clearly torn between aborting the mission and seeing it through. Claire tried to convey to them the need to flee- that the only lives in immediate danger were theirs, but a deafening roar drowned out her pleas.

Wesker hunched over suddenly, and a massive cluster of black tissue erupted from his back.

There was a moment's pause before the order came. "Fire!" and gunshots filled the room with small bursts of light. Tentacles were flying everywhere now; Claire had a hard time distinguishing them from the soldiers in the dark.

She managed to spot one of them in front of her, shooting rapidly. A small cluster of the disgusting tendrils appeared suddenly and swept toward them both; he dodged, leaving Claire exposed.

Her lips parted in surprise and then fear; she tried rolling out of the way, but her mobility was crippled. The mass pierced her abdomen, narrowly missing her spine but pinning her to the wall.

Time seemed to stop; Wesker raised his eyes slowly to see what he had done. Claire was gasping painfully, clawing at the appendage restraining her. Her nostrils filled with a hot, burning sensation she could only conclude to be blood. The taste of iron on her tongue confirmed this, and, frantic, she looked up and around, seeking support from someone nearby. She was going to die.

Grimacing, he made quick work of the remaining men, and before Claire had the opportunity to so much as breathe, they were sprinting.

Wesker had her tucked firmly under his arm; blood was flooding from her wound which, though difficult in the position they were in, Wesker was somehow managing to put pressure on.

The night cold was nipping at her nose and ears, and she could feel the sting of fatigue, though it hardly mattered. She spat out blood, trying to clear a path through which she could breathe. One of her lungs must have been punctured. Her eyes welled involuntarily and Claire cursed her luck; yet another uncomfortable distraction.

She was getting dizzy, barely aware of anything but the pain. The last thing she saw before slipping out of consciousness was the pounding of Wesker's feet on the muddy road.

**Chicago Typewriter kicks a- ah, erm... _butt_. Seriously. Just got around to playing round two of RE4. I think I'm in love...**


	21. Chapter 21

_**This chapter has been updated. If a chapter has not been updated, it will not have this message at the top. Beware of non-updated chapters, they may contain plot inconsistencies.**_

"They're not responding."

"Try again."

"This was the fourth time! They haven't answered."

"Well, there's nothing else we can do until we get there. We've still got another two hours; keep trying."

"Fine..." Sheva was a bit testy. In her past experiences, Wesker wasn't someone you could take on unprepared; she was feeling somewhat pessimistic about the situation they were rushing into.

Josh shifted gears before looking back at her, and then into the canvas beyond, "Is this really everyone?"

There were four men in the back of the truck; they were the only ones who had volunteered.

"Looks like it." Sighing, Sheva started twirling her handgun around her finger; if things kept heading in the direction they were, she had a feeling the locating of Claire and Wesker would be bumped down the BSAA's list of priorities.

The reason for that was that they had just discovered Mexico was resorting to drastic measures; they were bombing their own country in an attempt to halt the spread of infection. As a result, radiation was around every corner, and neighboring countries were beginning to feel the effects as well. To make matters worse, she'd just discovered Chris was being dispatched there to observe a small BSAA unit while they investigated the source of the leak.

The economy of every major country around the globe had plummeted, there were very few places left with electrical power _anywhere,_ and the rate of homicides had increased dramatically; largely due to people locking themselves up in their homes and shooting anything that moved. Law enforcement everywhere was cutting back too; hell, police were joining the looting and the riots! The world was falling to pieces, when less than two percent of the entire population was infected.

Not that she couldn't understand their fear.

The only reason HQ suddenly agreed to the rescue of Claire was because she was with Wesker, and _he_ was wanted as a suspect in the recent outbreak. There was no doubt in Sheva's mind that he was the major player behind all of the chaos.

She holstered her gun and reluctantly picked up the radio.

"Alpha team; are you there? Please respond."

* * *

It was fortunate he'd made preparations for any unforeseen circumstances; however, he hadn't thought he'd need any medical supplies beyond the basics. So, while they were safe in an out-of-the-way motel room, the girl was still dying, and just when her usefulness had become most apparent, no less.

She was an essential part of the plan; without her he had no leverage. Whoever sold him out to the BSAA was undoubtedly the same one who had taken S.

She was still unconscious; he looked reluctantly at the door. He only had one option. As risky as it was, he couldn't let her die.

At any rate, the time for second thoughts had passed; he'd called a cab and it was already on its way.

The mediocre bandaging he'd placed on her was seeping blood. As he sat, eying her wound, a thought occurred to him.

Why wasn't he trying to eat her?

He hadn't fed for almost two days; the scent of her blood should be driving him mad, but he was unaffected.

What was different?

* * *

"Hello, Mr. Downing. Welcome to your new home."

Frederic stepped out of a large limousine; the man who greeted him was nearly a foot shorter than he was, beaming an overly excited smile with his arms spread out. Behind him was a large facility; white and clean, with windows that reflected the landscape surrounding it.

Frederic was still a little wary, unsure exactly of how he felt about the events of the last few days. Sure, he was out of jail, but at what cost? What exactly was this company going to require of him?

Home; something about the word the short man had used made him feel a little more nervous.

He found himself suddenly questioning every action he'd witnessed this mysterious organization taking; he couldn't help the sense of anxiety that over whelmed him as he ascended the small set of steps which led into the building.

**I know; super short chapter. There really wasn't much to report; no one else yet knows about what happened to Alpha team (except Wesker, and he ain't tellin') so no one's able to react to it. They're all pretty much doing the same thing they were when you last read about them.**

**Okay; I'm gonna be heading out tomorrow; there probably won't be any updates until Monday or so.**

**I wonder if asking people to review really affects whether or not they do... I guess I'll test the theory here.**

**REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW**

**Okay; enough of that. Thanks for reading!**


	22. Chapter 22

**_This chapter has been updated. If a chapter has not been updated, it will not have this message at the top. Beware of non-updated chapters, they may contain plot inconsistencies._ **

**Longer chapter, so yay.**

An interesting turn of events.

He'd seen the entire thing from the security cameras Albert himself had installed.

Though Albert was now in the limelight, he wasn't dead. If that remained the case then he could pose a threat to the new world. He had to be eliminated.

However, his mutation was certainly unique; Alex couldn't deny that somewhere inside him hid an urge to discover what secrets lay in his bodywork.

He absentmindedly stroked his chin, gazing out of the window and into the forest beyond. He still had a few tricks up his sleeve.

"Sherry, dear; come," he gestured toward a young woman standing behind him.

She approached silently.

"I need you to do something for me."

"What?"

"I want you to find Albert. You must bring him here."

Sherry sucked in a breath, "Why?"

"He's in danger, dear. He needs your help."

"What are you going to do to him once I find him?" she asked warily. She didn't want Albert hurt, and she knew of Alex's plans...

"Nothing, of course, dear. I'm just going to ask him a few questions. He has something I want, that's all. Once he gives it to me, he will be free to do as he pleases."

"You promise?"

"Promise."

"You won't hurt him?"

"Not a hair on his head."

She wasn't entirely convinced, but there was nothing more she could say. She turned to leave.

"Oh, and dear?" he called again, over his shoulder.

"Yes?" The electronic door slid open, but Sherry waited.

"There should be a woman with him. If possible, bring her alive as well."

"Alright."

* * *

"Is this it?"

"It has to be."

Sheva eyed the cabin, "Something isn't right."

"You felt it too?" Josh had his gun out. The others hopped from the truck and followed his example.

All of them approached the cabin cautiously, though it was only Sheva and Josh who entered.

The smell hit their noses before anything else.

"Oh, my god!" Sheva ducked back out the door for some fresh air, with Josh right behind her.

"What? What is it?" one of the soldiers asked the still-choking pair.

"Good god... Alpha team; they've been..." another soldier was looking in through the window; he didn't need to finish the sentence.

"Any sign of Wesker?"

"Not yet. We're gonna have to go in," Sheva double-checked her safety before looking around at the others. As apprehensive as they seemed, they nodded.

"Just don't breath through your nose," Josh warned, and the group flooded in.

The taste of the air wasn't much better, but at least it wasn't vomit-inducing.

The room they were in wasn't very large; perhaps twenty square-feet of floor space; no more. There were two small rooms adjacent to the one in which they stood; a bathroom and a kitchen. Everything was clear here.

There was still, however, the matter of the trapdoor at their feet.

Sheva was the first to drop in, careful to keep as quiet as possible. Her caution however, was unnecessary, and she found herself more preoccupied with keeping the others from following her.

"Seriously; there's no way more than one person can move around down here. Just stay where you are; I'm just going to look around."

Ten minutes later, Sheva emerged once again with a grimace on her face.

"He left his computer behind, but I can't access it. We'll need someone to scan the hard-drive."

"We've got a few techs back at camp. We'll take it there."

"What about this place?"

"We'll leave some of these guys behind to watch the place, look around for some locals. They could have seen something. We should take the computer and report back to base."

Sheva nodded, "Let's do this quickly. They couldn't have left very long ago- a few hours maybe. The sooner we learn something, the more likely we are to find them."

* * *

"Hola; me llamo Jauquine Chavez. I am ambassador to America; welcome to our country. Our president is just this way; I will translate for you."

Chris eyed the man; he was dressed in a slightly wrinkled business suit.

"No offense, but we didn't come here to chat."

"This won't take long. Senor Perez wishes to speak for only a moment; then you may be on your way."

As it turns out, the man didn't have much to say, except for the fact that in no way was it the government's fault they had to resort to such drastic measures, and that they only panicked because they'd never had to deal with bio-hazards of this nature before.

Chris rubbed his temples; the last thing he'd wanted to hear were excuses.

* * *

She had to pee so bad she was having dreams about it.

This was the first thing on her mind when she finally opened her eyes. The second thing was wondering what she was doing in a white room.

The third was concerning the man sitting at the foot of her bed.

"Where am I?" she groaned, placing and hand to her head while sitting up.

"In a hospital," Wesker replied, somewhat bored. "And if anyone asks, we're engaged."

"_What?_"

"I had to provide some reason to remain here in the room without appearing suspicious."

"So you couldn't have just said you were my brother, or something?"

"It crossed my mind. We don't look similar enough to pass as kin."

Claire pulled her hand away, but a glint in the light caught her attention. "You certainly think of everything," she said bitterly, tearing a metal ring from her finger.

"Leave it," Wesker ordered; she observed a similar ring on his own finger. He wasn't looking at her; he was preoccupied with a newspaper.

Claire wasn't really up for arguing. Instead, she looked around once more, "So, why are we here?"

"You were injured."

"What?" Claire looked over her body, "You mean my ankle? But that wasn't even-"

"Lift up your shirt."

"!" Claire looked at him frightfully. He never took his eyes from the paper, and eventually Claire was convinced it wasn't just a random bout of perversion.

She carefully pulled up her hospital gown and found her chest heavily bandaged, "What-?" Memories flooded to her and suddenly she understood.

"I was attacked... by you."

"Not a first, certainly."

"No, I suppose not," she said carefully. He turned a page.

The silence that followed was a little awkward. Her thoughts buzzed around in her head like angry bees, and finally, she spoke. "So, I'm important enough to risk exposure by bringing me to the hospital, but not enough to be spared the wrath of your temper tantrums?"

Wesker ignored that last part, "'Risk exposure'?"

"I mean, I could easily tell a doctor that I'm being held against my will. You aren't concerned?"

"I have faith, dear heart, that you'll see reason enough to keep my secret."

"We'll, you'll have to explain that to me because I'm not seeing the reason now."

Wesker sighed in resignation, as if their conversation had been nothing more than a distraction to him. "This is one of the only working hospitals in the entire world."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, the planet is in hysterics."

"What? Why?"

"Another outbreak. All you need to know is that I can kill anyone, and have this hospital condemned. Not only would you cost someone their life, but you'd be depriving everyone in the area of medical attention." her blind concern for complete strangers was an easy trait to take advantage of.

"Wait; another outbreak? I don't understand; what's-"

"I don't care to delve into the details now."

"But-"

"I have her lunch here- oh, I see you're awake. How are you feeling?" A small woman in a white cap poked her head in through the door; she was holding a tray in her hands.

"I'm fine, thanks..." Claire said, making a mental note not to drop the previous subject.

"That's good. You had quite a doozy there. Two-hour surgery; do you remember what happened to you?" she set the tray in Claire's lap.

Claire looked in the smiling woman's face, and swallowed hard. "Uh-uh," she shook her head.

"Oh. Well, that's too bad; it's always best to know what causes these things. But from what we can tell you'll make a full recovery. You should be out of here by Saturday."

"Saturday? What day is it now?"

"Today? It's Wednesday. Dearie; your medication must be making you a bit fuzzy."

"Yeah; the meds. That must be it... Well, thank you," Claire gave the most grateful look she could muster, gesturing to the food.

"Oh, of course; just press that button there if you need anything else, alright?"

"Sure thing. Thanks." The woman nodded warmly to her and then Wesker before leaving. Claire watched her go, dreading her solitude with the man.

She looked longingly at the food before her; she was absolutely starving. She had reservations, however, about eating in front of Wesker.

As if reading her thoughts, he told her, "Just eat it. You've gone without food for too long."

She scowled; she wished he'd just leave her alone. Just as she was about to respond, the urge to go to the bathroom suddenly returned.

"Oh!" she cursed under her breath, sliding her legs from beneath the tray and rushing into the bathroom.

Wesker raised an eyebrow, watching her carefully.

The sudden action had made Claire feel dizzy, and something stung in her abdomen. The meds must have been wearing off.

When Claire left the bathroom, she noticed Wesker staring at her.

"What?" she snapped, unappreciative of his gaze.

"Your ankle, dear heart," was all he said. She looked down at her feet and realized she was standing.

**Cue dramatic music!**

**Thanks to this fic, I'm probably going to fail summer school, and (ultimately) high school. Be grateful I have screwy priorities. Ah, well; I plan on making millions on a book I haven't gotten around to writing yet. It'll all be good.**


	23. Chapter 23

_**This chapter has been updated. If a chapter has not been updated, it will not have this message at the top. Beware of non-updated chapters, they may contain plot inconsistencies.**_

**Thanks for the Spanish lesson, anonymous reviewer! You're right; I'm more of a french person; je ne sais pas l'espagne...**

**Anyway, if I ever goof up again I want everyone to feel comfortable in letting me know!**

**Okay; onto chapter... 23? I think? Sorry, my brain's fuzzy...**

"So, sir; what are you going to do now that we know Albert Wesker is alive?"

_"We're going to do what we've been doing; we'll wait for your captain and Miss Wong to apprehend him. At the moment I don't consider him a large concern. What's got me more worried is the source of that leak."_

"Oh, that's right. You received the news from his personal computer, didn't you?"

_"We can't be sure who sent us that message. The proof that it wasn't the girl was the fact that we received it at all."_

"Do you think it was S?"

_"Well, yes, but that's only because I can't imagine who else it could have been. If this is the case, it means two things; first, that S has abandoned Mr. Wesker, and second, someone else is now pulling the strings."_

"But what would this person's motive be for sending you that message?"

_"I really couldn't say... At any rate, I've been getting a strong sense of foreboding lately. I believe we should prepare ourselves for the worst."_

* * *

_One week later..._

It was worse now than before. Over the last few days, Chris had witnessed some horrific things; there was nothing here for the people- no food, no drinkable water, no blankets for the cold nights.

All the while the Mexican President had been insisting that it wasn't their government's fault. As a matter of fact, it had been the U.S. who, in failing to come to the rescue sooner, had forced Mexico's hand and caused all of the devastation.

And he had yet to see _one_ infectee.

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Chris sighed heavily. He considered calling Jill, but had no idea what time it was in China. He'd received a call a few days ago; apparently because China had been hit the hardest by the outbreak, she had been dispatched there to help the authorities figure out what to do.

His mind suddenly wandered to Claire.

Where was she? Why the hell wasn't anyone updating him?

He bowed his head between his knees and sighed deeply. He'd hold it together. His baby sister was out there, alone, and in danger. He would have to be strong, for the both of them.

* * *

They were shipping out in three days.

Leon found himself growing increasingly nervous; had he taught them enough? Were they really prepared?

He tried telling himself not to worry; most of these men were older than him and had far more experience. They could take care of themselves; he needed to quit worrying.

But he just couldn't bring himself to believe that.

Which was why tomorrow, he was going to give them a test. He would show them exactly what they were up against.

* * *

"Here we are, Miss Birkin. Will you be needing an escort from here?"

"No, thank you. I'll be fine on my own," Sherry answered the pilot while walking away.

Because Brazil held the headquarters for the pharmaceutical giant, S, flights from the country, although heavily regulated, were permitted to allow the export of medical supplies to third world countries such as India and many of the African Nations.

This was how Sherry had gained entrance to the country.

They had landed in an empty field. Not ideal, but it was better they not be seen. She was out of sight of the pilot when she finally stopped. The sun beat down on her, but she wasn't phased. The wind rustled her long skirt, causing it to flail madly eastward.

Sherry shut her eyes, allowing herself to focus; it didn't take long for senses to tug her in the right direction, and soon she was running north, to her uncle.

* * *

"What's all this?" Nicholai was gazing through binoculars at the small cabin which the organization had identified as Wesker's hideout.

"I'm guessing it's a sign that we should get out of here."

The two had gone through hell to get there, only to find the place crawling with BSAA agents.

"What the hell happened? Where's Wesker?"

"Either in custody or in the wind," Ada double-checked their coordinates, "We'd better report this and leave."

* * *

This was a curious thing indeed.

In only a few days Claire had not only made a full recovery, but had developed enhanced physical abilities beyond that of the average person.

Not that she exactly knew it.

She'd noticed her rapid recovery, true, but didn't seem to be thinking on it much. He'd been dosing her with a mild sedative; enough to keep her in a fog and weak enough to maintain control over.

They were still staying in the hotel, but he never let her out of his sight. She wouldn't be able to try anything without having to deal with him.

Though the chemical changes taking place in her body would be fascinating to observe under a microscope, they were dangerous to his delicate situation. And they would be moving again, soon.

He'd have to keep an extra eye on her; other than that the only precaution he had was sedation, and it was only a matter of time before the supply he swiped from the hospital ran out.

This was less than ideal...

**I've noticed I have a curious aversion to referring to Wesker as a tyrant, even though in both senses of the word the term is fairly accurate. I wonder where that came from... Hmm...**

**Anyway, review! (Yes, I am still testing the theory.)**


	24. Chapter 24

_**This chapter has been updated. If a chapter has not been updated, it will not have this message at the top. Beware of non-updated chapters, they may contain plot inconsistencies.**_

**Haha!**

**Sorry; I just felt like laughing.**

**And for those of you who read the chapter earlier, I apologize for its screwiness. Wordpad is a daemon program!**

**On with the story!**

_One day later…_

Sherry's loyalties were with Albert; of this, Alex was well aware. It would take time, but she was the most certain means of getting in touch with him. She didn't know any important details, and the extent of her usefulness was purely her connection to the former company head. She'd tell him of the company's change of hands, and he'd come to reestablish himself. He'd never perceived Alex as much of a threat. He'd feel there was little to fear in coming for him.

This was most efficient way to go about things; he'd set Albert up for his biggest fall. He'd show his former better how wrong he'd been to ever underestimate him.

But, really, this matter was more personal anyway. A tying of loose ends left over from his past. All the distractions in the world couldn't stop his plans now.

Gazing out of his window, as he often did, Alex picked up the phone.

"I believe we're ready. Begin replacing our Uroboros shipments with K."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

"W- where are we going...?" Claire asked groggily. Wesker was leading her by the arm toward a taxi.

"Away," was all he said, helping her stumbling figure into the backseat. He sat beside her, giving the driver directions to a nearby motel. They'd stayed too long in this one already.

They were going through an almost deserted market when the driver pulled the vehicle to a stop.

This put Wesker on edge; now was no time for surpises. "What is it?"

The man didn't speak. His eyes were wide and shifty; there was sweat running down his forehead. Just as Wesker was preparing to bolt, the man suddenly cried out and jerked his head toward a small fruit stand nearby.

Amidst the oranges, bananas, and grapefruit, was the figure of a young woman.

The man's quivering body began to thrash. Wesker opened the door and pulled Claire out with him, backing away from the vehicle while keeping an eye on the girl.

"What's happening?" Claire asked, gaining awareness at a rapid pace.

Making a mental note of the increase of her metabolism, Wesker pulled his handgun from the holster under his arm and aimed it cautiously at the girl.

It took Sherry a moment to realize that he was aiming at her. She felt a jab in her heart; why would Uncle Albert want to hurt her? Then she remembered the cab driver she had been mindlessly torturing. No wonder Uncle Albert was riled; she was raising a bit of a fuss, wasn't she?

With a wave of her hand, the man's body twisted into an indistinguishable mass, causing blood to splatter everywhere within the cab. Paying it no mind, Sherry lightly pounced to the roof of the car and then off again, landing neatly in front of Wesker.

A look of surprise was soon replaced with one of suspicion, as Wesker held his weapon fast.

"Sherry…" he announced in an authoritative manner, much like a parent scolding a child.

"I was sent here to help you," she said without prompting.

He was about to ask who sent her when Claire poked her head from behind Wesker's back.

"Sherry...?"

The young blonde gave pause to stare at the auburn-haired woman. Almost the instant their eyes met, Sherry's heart began to pound, and she completely forgot about Wesker.

"You!" Sherry was flying at Claire with tremendous force, temporarily knocking the unexpecting Wesker aside.

"You! You left me!" She had Claire by the throat, "You lied to me! You promised, but you never came!"

"Sher-" Claire choked, struggling against her surprisingly strong grip.

"You left me alone! You said you'd come back! You promised!" Sherry was crying now, shaking Claire roughly.

"Sherry!" Wesker shouted, "That is enough!"

She didn't seem to listen. Angrily, Wesker yanked her away by the shoulder.

Claire dropped to the ground hard, clutching her throat and gasping for air.

"Agh! Let me go!" she struggled, still reaching for Claire.

"Sherry; listen to me," Wesker whirled her around to face him. She stopped fighting and looked fearfully at him.

"Who sent you here?"

"Alex did."

He paused. Alex? Where did he know that name...?

"Alex who?"

"You mean you don't know? I thought he was your brother."

"My brother?"

"Yeah. But then... he also said he was more like a father."

A father...? Then it clicked. Alex Wesker; Spencer's protégé.

"Where is Alex now?"

"He's in Brazil."

Wesker narrowed his eyes; so Alex had been the one who took over. He wasn't sure what to make of that. As his mind wandered over the series of events he'd encountered lately, the fact seemed to make more sense.

But something else she said made him think.

"Sherry; why would Alex send you here to help me?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. He said you needed help; that's all. He wants me to bring you to headquarters, along with... _her_," she nodded to Claire.

What does Alex want with him? Or Claire, for that matter? What was he planning?

As if reading his thoughts, Sherry continued, "I know something else, too. I know that Alex is the one causing the spread of Uroboros. He wants to take over the world."

* * *

"What do we do now?" Nicholai tossed a coin in the air. He was sitting on a crate, looking at Ada expectantly.

"I'm not sure. Our orders are to keep looking, but we don't have anything to go on. We have no other leads."

"He couldn't have gotten far!"

"You don't have to be far to be undetected. Our only option now is to sit tight and hope we get lucky."

Twenty-seven targets; three minutes.

* * *

Leon couldn't help the uneasy feeling he had.

As the clock started and the first man went into the arena, Leon's uncertainty grew.

Four targets down; he was doing good so far. He hit every infected target he came across, while the targets with images of the uninfected were unharmed.

Twelve targets. One shot; one kill. He took down infected children without so much as batting an eye. But that wasn't the issue. Leon had already made it a point to convey the horrors of young infectees; none of the men had appeared phased in the least, which could be good or bad. Either they possessed extremely thick skin, or they didn't understand the danger.

Nineteen targets. There was only one enemy left.

It had been five years since the newest member of their unit had joined up; since no one had come or gone. They trained together, fought together, saved lives and took them, all side-by-side. Leon understood the war-buddy mentality; he had it himself- perhas not earned in war, but the connections he'd developed with Claire, Chris, Jill, Ashley Graham, Louis Sera, and… and Ada too were those of people fighting a terrible enemy. It was a band of survival, attempting ceaselessly to overturn a persistent threat.

He understood perfectly. The men in this unit held each other in the highest esteem. Never before had they faced the possibility that they might need to shoot a man who had once shared a beer with them, or saved his life. It was a concept they seemed unwilling to take in.

As the man turned to face the final target, he paused.

The image was of Pete Mitchell; one of the most respected members of their unit.

The soldier remained frozen until the target retracted. He blinked in confusion, before turning around to face Leon.

"What the hell was that?" he asked, throwing his hands in the air.

"It was a test; you just failed."

"Because I didn't shoot a fellow soldier! ?"

"Precisely."

"What the hell do you mean? We're trying to kill them, not each other!"

"And what about when one of you becomes one of them? Will you be ready?"

The others were entering the target chamber, clearly listening.

"Comradery can be a good asset, but it's a double-edged sword. You need to bear in mind that your ultimate goal is survival. You're going to see things I can't prepare you for. I'm just asking that you try to understand what you're getting into."

**Go Leon! *Does happy dance***

**Okay; bye-bye.**


	25. Chapter 25

**Okay; maybe a bunch of you don't remember but in one of the really early chapters I stated that most of Wesker's research was at the Organization. That was a brain malfunction. I meant S. Just thought I'd let you know.**

**Also, timline; eight hours has passed since the last chapter.**

**Prepare for total domination.**

"But-"

"No."

"But-"

"That's enough, Sherry," Wesker finished. Sherry closed her mouth. "Now, is there nothing else you can tell me?"

She shook her head.

"Then leave. Return to S."

"What? Why?"

"It's dangerous to have you here."

"But I can help you!"

"No, Sherry. You know as well as I do the risks involved."

"What risks?"

"Perhaps you're being followed, or traced. These are things I can't leave to chance. Return to S."

"What am I supposed to tell Alex?"

"You couldn't find anything; there was no trace of me here."

"Y-you're sure I can't help?"

"Go, Sherry."

"Alright..." she looked at Wesker fearfully. Her eyes then darted to Claire, sitting on the floor. Her eyes narrowed in silent fury, and Claire opened her mouth.

"Sherry, I'm-" the younger woman turned sharply and left, not giving Claire a chance to finish.

As the door slammed shut, Wesker slightly raised an eyebrow at Claire, who was stil gazing after Sherry. He then gave a mental shrug, resolving that whatever their history was it was of little importance to him.

He had other things to worry about; namely, removing himself from Alex's radar. All of his equipment was still at the cabin. Before long, his picture would be everywhere.

It looks like he would have to go underground.

* * *

"Hey; hey, Rodney! Where'd you go?" A man in a blue flannel shirt was looking at a large projection screen.

"I'm right here; what is it?" Another appeared form behind a nearby storage cabinet.

"Go get Yates on the phone, would you?"

"Why?"

"Just go!"

* * *

Yates was sitting uncomfortably in a room with twelve other men, four of whom were interpreters. More international damage control, and it was his job to bear the bulk of the responsibility. He never imagined his job

Angela entered hurriedly.

"Sir, there's an important matter that requires your attention."

"How important?"

"National security, sir." Yates' head shot up and stared at her. She returned his look solemnly.

* * *

"Alright; granted, I'm grateful for your timing, but I still have work to do. This had better be good."

"It is."

"You needed to see me, Mr. Yates?" Both men turned to see a young woman with short hair jogging down the hall.

"Ah, yes; Rebecca. My go-to girl for medical jargon. You get to see this stuff first-hand and then feed the information to your friends. In secret, of course."

The young medic's jaw dropped. "Y-you mean-"

He chuckled and patted her on the head, "Relax. I notice things; I don't blame you. Anyway, I figured it was only appropriate for you to see this."

"See what, sir?"

"I... am not entirely sure yet. Rodney?"

The technician who had been observing from a distance suddenly seemed to reanimate. "Uh, yes, sir. Well, this is the data from the infectees we've been bringing in since last month. We've been taking regular samples from each of them in order to determine the degree of infection."

"This isn't going to be good, is it?"

"Ah- well, no. We can report that in some cases the victims have made progress. In them, Uroboros was responding to treatment. However, this was only in certain cases. Unfortunately, all we have to work with is the vaccinne for Las Plagas. As you are aware, BSAA Africa failed to successfully recover a sample of the serum Redfield and Valentine informed us of. Right now, we're starting from scratch. We've been comparing the Las Plagas samples to its vaccinne, and hope to find some sort of pattern that will aid us in studying a cure for Uroboros."

"This is all in the report you filed. What's new; why did you call me here?"

"Er- right. Well, if you look here," Rodney jogged to a keyboard and began typing. Data began streaming onto a nearby moniter, "It seems we hit a snag. Withing that last few hours, we've been getting all sorts of readings. Yesterday, all of the samples we took were consistent with each of the subjects' circumstances. But if you look at this chart here, you'll see the data's been skewed. There's something different; a completely new factor is affecting their bloodwork, and a number of patients who were as far as rehabillitation had to undergo an emergency quarantine. It's like, all of a suddent none of the antibiotics are working. As a matter of fact, their degree of infection is rising rapidly. And once a patient reaches a certain point of infection, surgery is deemed too risky and the only option then is-"

"-Sterilization." Rebecca finished.

"How many have we killed so far?" Yates asked.

"Thirty-nine."

"Jesus! We only had fifty-seven people in isolation!"

"And it's only going to get worse."

"What assumptions can you make about this sudden factor?"

Rodney shook his head, "None, sir. What we've observed so far is actually rather... interesting, for lack of a better word."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Uroboros uses it's hosts' abilities for things such as combat and procreation."

"Right..."

"But it can't do that when it completely overwhelms the host; something which occurs inevitably after a certain period of time."

"Are you going somewhere with this?"

"Well, the reason that occurs is attributed to a neurotoxin secreted by the parasite into the host's body, permanently damaging the immune system and allowing the parasite to takeover. However, our most recent patients, in spite of being so far gone, have been able to conduct themselves far better when compared to the first infected. It's like they possess the ability to reason in an individualistic manner, and to some extent, _control_ the parasite in their own bodies."

"Wait- what?"

"Is that even possible?"

"Apparently so. But there's another drawback."

"What's that?"

"This- this other factor, whatever it is; it seems to increase the ability of infectees to spread the parasite, and, in addition, increase the rate at which the parasite takes over the body."

"But I thought you said the hosts could control the parasites."

"Well, it's not an exact science. In some, they can, and in others, they can't. I haven't been able to find anything in their chemical makeup which might have sparked the anomaly. It may not even be physical; there are a myriad of enviornmental factors which could have caused this. I won't be able to tell for sure without more subjects."

* * *

Alex tapped the desk impatiently. He had the clinical results in front of him; his men had assembled a number of theoreticals and studies in an attempt to make the most education decision as possible, and he'd read all of them. However, he'd never been one to rely on statistics.

What he wanted now were results.

Just as he was preparing to call his assistant, the door to his office opened.

"Sir; the documents you asked for." A man in a tailored balck suit handed him a manilla envelope.

Tearing the folder open, Alex gazed at the file, interpreting the meaning behind each figure.

After a few moments, he rested the papers on his desk and looked out through the window, smiling in satisfaction.

**I know the last segment might have been a bit much; don't be afraid to ask for clarification if anything doesn't make sense. I've got this plot pretty nailed in my brain; how it comes out in writing... well, I can't really be objective as to whether or not I'm gettign my message across. For those of you who care to make my job easier, tell me what you think has gone on so far. This way, i can tell if I've been using the right words.**

**I shouldn't worry too much; you guys are pretty quick. You probably know what I'm going to do before I do.**

**Oh, right; theory.**

**REVIEW!**


	26. Chapter 26

Okay; chapter 26! Hoo-rah! Sorry about the delay.

"Who's Alex?" Claire crossed her arms and looked up at the ceiling. She was sure she'd never been more confused.

She was sitting on the floor, the same place she'd been when Sherry left.

Sherry...

Her heart throbbed painfully when she thought of her.

She could understand her resentment; life hadn't been fair to her, and Claire, the only person who had ever made her feel safe, hadn't been around when she was needed most. Of course Sherry would be upset.

There was nothing in the world Claire wanted more at that moment, than to hear her brother hushing her, telling her that everything was okay.

"Never you mind. It's got nothing to do with you." Wesker was sitting at a small table, taking apart his handgun. He'd been on the phone earlier; someone was coming to pick them up. She had no idea where they were headed this time, but in light of the events of the last few days, she guessed it was somewhere hard to find.

Claire narrowed her eyes. She wasn't about to leave it at that.

She pulled herself off the floor and stalked to the table.

"Alright; there's something going on. I am sick of being told that none of this concerns me! It _all_ concerns me! I'm right in the middle of it!" She slammed her hand on the table, making his equipment jump and drawing a deadly glare from him. "I want answers."

"What makes you think you'll get them?" he asked. He was doing his best to control his temper.

"So far, I've been playing nice. But I can make this a _lot_ harder on you."

They held a hostile gaze. There was a level of uncertainty rising in the pit of Claire's stomach, and she started to wonder if this was really such a good idea.

Then, to her surprise, he exhaled.

"Sit," he ordered, and she did so.

* * *

"We've received reports that the ratio of infectees is one in every 325 people; if this is true, then it means that the rate of infection is less than two percent of the world's population. It also means that since yesterday, the number of those infected has decreased. The White House has said that they are feeling 'cautiously optimistic', and hope to see results of their efforts soon."

"Oh, shut up," Rebecca set her toothbrush on the bathroom sink and entered her bedroom. When she couldn't find the remote, she turned the T.V. off by hand.

One in 325 people... that was a total lie.

_"Alright... here's the report you asked for."_

_The man looked carefully at one of the spreadsheets, "Excuse me, but this can't possibly be correct."_

_"I assure you, it is. Things have turned for the worse, and those numbers are expected to rise."_

_"Is that so?"_

_Rebecca was watching the scene from nearby._

_"Tell me," the man continued, "what do you think would happen, if we were to announce this information to the public?" He waved the folder in his hand for emphasis._

_Tom looked confused, "Er- I suppose people wouldn't be very happy..."_

_"Smart man; you're right. They wouldn't be. As a matter of fact, I'd say they'd be downright scared. They'd panic- start riots. Don't you think so?"_

_"It's a possibility..."_

_"Oh; it's much more than that. People have already taken to the streets; it's only a matter of time before all faith in the government is lost. If everyone is out there, raising hell, then good people like you and I can't do our jobs. We can't help them. Do you follow me?"_

_"I suppose..."_

_"So, if we were to tell them that this," he pulled out a peice of paper and waved it in the air, "is what things have come to, things are only going to get worse. How might we fix that problem?"_

_Tom was silent. He understood what the man wanted._

_Rebecca narrowed her eyes._

"_If you correct this tiny mistake, right here," he pointed on the paper. Tom leaned in and squinted._

_"What mistake?"_

_"The missing zero."_

_"But there isn't any missing-" the man held his hand up; Tom quieted instantly._

_"Think about it a minute," he said. Tom pursed his lips and looked away, clearly uncertain._

_"I can't just-"_

_"Think about it."_

_"I- I..." he stuttered for a moment. He was caught in a trap; Rebecca felt the slightest urge to come to his aid, but was too enthralled by the scene to really move._

_After a while, Tom sighed. "Alright. I'll- I'll fix it."_

_"Good man."_

Rebecca sneered internally; since the outbreak, President Miller's approval ratings had taken a nosedive. So now, they were out duping the public into believing there was hope. The government's attempts at cleaning up hadn't accomplished much, so they got a trusted organization, the BSAA, to make them look like heroes. Meanwhile, the ones able to do any good were poised to take the fall.

The fact enraged her to no end.

She re-entered the bathroom and picked up her toothbrush.

The real statistics were much worse; that 'missing zero' had skewed the results. The original charts said that the rate of infection was really two percent of the world's population, or one in thirty people.

They'd sent memos to every police station and hospital, notifying them with details on how to detect the infected and the steps to take in dealing with them. However, most authority officials had resigned from their posts and left to more secluded areas.

In response to this, congress was debating the passing of a bill that would prevent such individuals from quitting; the ones who did would be criminally prosecuted.

Who the hell would be there to arrest them? That's what Rebecca wanted to know.

Things had turned to an 'every man for himself' mentality. People were committing suicide; crime had gone up dramatically. Neighbor's who'd been smiling and waving to you one day would be gone the next. The masses were rushing to less crowded places in droves, ironically leaving the cities deserted. Rebecca had half a mind to hit the road too; but she couldn't bring herself to leave the BSAA.

Her job, however, couldn't help her sleep at night. If anything, it made it worse.

She really wished Billy was here.

* * *

"Hunnigan. Anything new?"

"Sorry, Leon. There's been no sign of Claire Redfield. Or Frederick Downing, for that matter."

Leon sighed, "Well, thanks anyway."

"I really am sorry." There was asmall pause, "So you're training course is over, huh?"

"Yeah. I'm seeing them off now, actually."

"Do you think they're ready?"

"Not at all." No one's ever prepared for this.

* * *

Sherry was careful to stay out of sight. She knew Uncle Wesker wouldn't be happy to see her.

She moved quickly, poking her head out every now and then only to make sure she hadn't lost the car; whatever Wesker was up to, she imagined it would be rather difficult for her to stay close. This was, after all, an attempt to disappear from the map.

But what Alex had said, regardless of whether he'd meant it, was still true; Wesker needed help.

And Sherry would make sure she'd be close enough to offer that help when the time came.

* * *

They were in a small, black car. Though she was still stuck beside Wesker, at least there was room.

She gazed through the window, looking at the shabby structures whiz by. Her mind was preoccupied with all she had just learned.

Alex Wesker was a former employee of Umbrella. He was behind the recent biological outbreak, as well as Sherry's presence in Africa.

When Claire had inquired about the fact that they shared the same last name, Wesker had only said that that was a story for another time.

He did fill her in on some of the events of Kijuju, though he'd seemed rather uncomfortable on the subject. Mostly, though, he talked about things which had taken place long before she was born.

Ozwell E. Spencer, James Marcus, and Edward Ashford founded the Umbrella corporation shortly after discovering the Progenitor virus in Africa. Ashford and Marcus later died, leaving Spencer with all of Umbrella's power. After years of expirimentation, the t-virus was discovered, with G soon to follow.

It was weird for her to hear all of this. For years, all she had known was her side. She suddenly found herself wanting to learn more; to, in some way, understand the Raccoon, Rockfort, and Harvardville incidents.

The more he'd told her about Spencer, however, the more enraged she'd become. The tragedy of it all; those innocent people, turned into mindless monsters, and all for one man's obsession with power.

They never stood a chance.

Looking at Wesker, Claire felt this emotion surging just as violently as it did when she thought of Umbrella; he was just like Spencer. Out only for his own gain, all else be damned. He didm't even try to understand what he was doing; the lives he was ruining. It made her sick.

She pulled her eyes away from him, fearing her anger might cause her to do something stupid. Instead, she looked at the back of the driver's head.

She felt out of place in the leather-lined seats, being driven by a man in a uniform. Her hair was matted, her clothes were dirty, and she desperately needed a shower. Setting aside all other concerns, she hoped that wherever they were headed next, she'd have access to a bathroom.


	27. Chapter 27

**Alright- many apologies for the hiatus. Had a bit of a mental shutdown. But here it is, and you can expect more frequent updates from here on~**

"Mr. Wesker; it's been a long time."

"It has."

A tall man of African descent walked casually up to Wesker. Claire stood close to her captor, distrustful of this new face.

There were a number of men in the room; each of them carrying some type of rapid-fire weapon. They stood guard over the few entrances in the room.

"So, you wanted something?"

"To cash in an old favor."

"Ah... I knew this day was coming. All right then; what is it?"

"Perhaps it would be better if we spoke in private."

The man clapped his hands together, "Very well." He pointed to the armed men and said something in another language. They turned to leave.

"Have them take her as well," Wesker gestured to Claire. Her mouth dropped open, clearly unsure of how to react.

Though she wasn't thrilled about being in Wesker's company, as long as he needed her she would be safe. Being alone with a bunch of these people was dangerous; she couldn't help her apprehension.

The man raised a brow, but gave the order. One of the men grabbed her by the arm and carried her into another room.

"Wai- but-" she started to object.

"Behave yourself, dear heart," Wesker's voice came, and the door shut.

* * *

"Are you ready?"

"Just give the word."

Nicholai squinted, "One's looking. Go ahead."

Ada pressed a switch with both thumbs, and a massive explosion shook the area.

* * *

"Hey- if you're gonna fall asleep, go back to the barracks. And send a replacement," a man in desert-themed combat gear nudged his nearby comrade with his boot. The sleeping man jumped awake and quickly reached for his rifle before realizing he was in no danger.

"Cut it out," he groaned, knocking the other man's foot away grumpily.

"It ain't my problem you can't stay awake at night. Either do your job or find someone who can."

A loud rumble drew their attention; they could spot an orange-red glow luminating their surroundings through the canvas.

"What the hell?" The tired man pulled himself out of his chair and followed his colleague outside. Another soldier was already there, watching dumbly.

"Goddamn," he said in disbelief. Flames were billowing from beyond the rows of tents on the other side of camp.

"We oughta get over there," the first man said. He turned to his now much more alert friend, "You wait here."

The other two ran toward the explosion, leaving the remaining soldier to watch in a mixture of awe and confusion.

* * *

As the two soldiers ran off, Ada and Nicholai were already moving in. The distraction would only buy them so much time.

Each unspokenly understood the other's role, so while Ada entered the tent, Nicholai quietly incapacitated the soldier out front and kept watch.

Removing a small USB from her sidepack, Ada scanned the room for her target. She sighed in exasperation when there was nothing to be found- or, rather, too much to be found. There was a plethora of computers piled on top of desks and tables in no particular order, but she couldn't discern which of them belonged to Wesker. There wasn't enough time to scan all of them.

Assuming that his computer would probably be a bit higher on the BSAA's agenda, she looked for locked cupboards or shelves.

"Hurry it up in there," her companion harshly whispered. Ada ignored him and continued her search.

It wasn't long before she spotted a tall cabinet secured with a masterlock. Decidedly short on time, she reached for her combat knife and, using leverage, pulled the base of the lock's attatchment from the wood.

The doors swung open freely, and she smiled at her prize.

"Why, hello there." She could tell simply by looking that the equipment was incredibly pricey, and took that fact as a hint that this was, indeed, Albert Wesker's laptop.

Pulling it away from the shelf, she wondered if they'd have better luck running with thecomputer itself, as opposed to simply copying the files. She bore the thought in mind while plugging it in and waiting for it to start.

If the computer were lost or damaged before they got a look at what was inside, they'd never be able to know. Opting for the safer route, Ada watched the password screen appear and inserted the USB. A small, green bulb lit up, and almost immediately a window appeared.

Begin scan?

Selecting OK, she looked toward the tent's main entrance. How long would this take, and how much time did they have?

An hourglass appeared on the screen and she tapped her finger impatiently.

"Company," Nicholai called, "Get a move on."

"Just hold on," she said irritably. What was taking so long?

Almost as soon as the thought entered her mind, the light on the USB went out and the hourglass disappeared.

"What?" Ada peered closely. As she investigated, Nicholai rushed in.

"We've got to go."

"Wait- something's wrong..."

"Screw it!" he grabbed the computer roughly and pulled the cords free of it. "This'll have to wait!"

Ada watched, incredibly annoyed, as her partner slid underneath the southern tarp of the canvas. She grudgingly followed him.

* * *

"What happened!" Sheva called. Josh looked up.

"Sheva! I don't know. The thing just lit up! Here; help me with this guy!"

She hurriedly obeyed, helping her friend pull a soldier from beneath a collapsed beam.

The injured man groaned painfully. All around them, shouts from soldiers echoed panic and shock. Sheva found herself at a loss; were they really so unprepared for such an emergency?

"Mr. Fisk! Hey, Fisk!" one voice rose above the others. Sheva raised her head to find the source. She spotted her boss issuing commands. He, too, turned at the sound of his name.

"Sir," a soldier ran up to him, "Something's happened at the Tech site. The corporal standing guard there was attacked."

"What?"

"Yeah- no one knows exactly happened, but it looks like someone stole something."

"What did they take?"

The man shook his head, "I'm not sure. A cabinet was broken into. That's all I know."

Fisk seemed to think for a moment, "All right. Contact Seargant Murray and have him take inventory. He should know what's missing."

"Yes, sir."

Sheva narrowed her eyes suspiciously. She had a gut feeling she already knew what was stolen.

* * *

"So; what was it you needed?"

"Someplace quiet."

"On the run, are you?"

"Something like that. I need a guarantee that we can keep out of the red."

"'We'?"

"The girl and I."

"Mr. Wesker goes into hiding with a lovely young woman; this is new. So, what; you are lovers?" the man gave a teasing smile.

"That doesn't concern you," Wesker took a seat in an arm chair, crossing his legs and folding his hands, "I'd certainly hate for this friendship of ours to end, wouldn't you, Sabastion?"

His smile vanished, "My apologies. I did not mean to offend you."

"So can you help us, or not?"

"Of course," the man nodded. He opened his mouth to offer Wesker something to drink, but shut it again. It occured to him that he was most likely not in the position to behave so friendly to the man, as he had once thought.

Wesker's gaze was fixed on him, unflinching, as the man struggled through his inner conflict.

Did he know? He couldn't; he'd been assured by the organization that his services were only indirectly connected to them, and that anyone, including Albert Wesker, would have a hard time pegging Sabastion as anything other than independent.

Now suddenly reminded of the threat Wesker posed, Sabastion was anxious to leave this man's presence. He summoned his most composed and even voice.

"Shall I take you there?"

* * *

She was getting real sick of being hauled everywhere like a piece of luggage.

She'd only been separated from Wesker for a couple of minutes before they were on the move again. This time, they walked.

The party consisted of Wesker, that man, Sabastion, two armed men, and herself. He spoke idly as they walked.

"We have numerous apartments in the compound, where my men and their families generallly live. We're one, big community here; it ensures loyalty."

All of the structures he pointed to looked exactly the same; three-story brick buildings. Each had weathervanes with the figure of a coiled serpent on top.

"This is yours. My men can fetch any of your belongings, if you need."

"Thank you, but no." Wesker answered.

"Very well; here's your key. I'll leave you to get settled." Sabastion nodded politely to Claire before turning back toward the main building.


	28. Chapter 28

**Alrighty- a bunch of people have been asking me to update again (and by a bunch I mean, like, three) so, first, I shall list my excuses here:**

**Homework**

**Laziness**

**Video Games**

**Sleeping**

**Birthday parties (two, to be exact)**

**Wow... when I look at it that way, I can't help but wonder exactly what the hell I've been doing the last couple months...**

**Well, irregardless (to mimic Stan from American Dad) of my devious deviation, the hiatus is over. I have every intention –and I mean it this time!- of updating regularly, completing Unhinged, and moving on to the sequel!**

**Before I get too ahead of myself, though, let's take it slow and start with this chapter.**

**ALSO OH MY GOD I'M 18 NOW. Just figured I'd warn all of you- I'm liable to suffer a heart attack when the fact finally sinks in, so be prepared for a lack of Unhinged-y goodness due to sudden death of the author. Many apologies in advance for my untimely demise! ^_^;**

**Okay I'm done. Enjoy~**

It started with shouting, but soon escalated to gunfire. The majority of the day had been spent taking cover and advancing slowly in the direction of the American Embassy facility nearly four miles away.

Unfortunately for Chris, there was a long stretch of bare ground from where he was to the next structure, and the rioting was getting more heated. What's more, he had several civilians in tow, none of whom could understand a thing he said, and his interpreter was unconscious thanks to the efforts of an IED disguised by a pile of clothes and a sobbing child.

He grimaced at the memory; the sight of the child vanishing in a cloud of smoke and flames still prevalent in his mind. Whatever was happening, he still hadn't encountered any infected; a fact he found difficult to believe. Uroboros was everywhere else in the world- what the hell was going on with Mexico?

Another shell went off nearby and Chris ducked instinctively; the people crouching behind him shrieked covered their heads.

All in all, today wasn't exactly turning out how he'd expected...

* * *

"I knew it. I just knew it." Sheva paced the floor. She, Josh, and Fisk were in the director's office, contemplating the theft of Wesker's PC.

They'd determined that they had no idea who it could have been. Nelson was in custody, and if there were other traitors among them, Nelson either didn't know or wasn't talking.

This, of course, did nothing to dispel the possibility that it was an inside job, nor did it serve to ease their minds any.

The idea that they had been infiltrated from the outside seemed more likely, but just as unnerving.

She looked out the window- night was setting in. It had been nearly twelve days since Claire's initial kidnapping, but Sheva's motivation had not faltered: she'd promised Chris, and she'd make good on it.

Fisk sighed, "Would you stop that? I'm trying to think."

Sheva's thoughts snapped back to reality and she paused, looking at her boss expectantly.

"What's on your mind?" Josh inquired. He was sitting in a chair next to the door.

"Things are getting out of control. I just need some quiet- see if I can't make sense of this."

As he finished his last word, the door to his office flung open violently, crashing against the chair and Josh's elbow.

"OW! Goddamn it!" he clung to his elbow protectively and glared at the attendant responsible for the damage. The young subordiante didn't seem to notice him.

"Sir, we've just received a call from the Clandestine Services back home; they've got something you'll want to see."

* * *

"What's wrong with it?" Nicholai asked for the third time.

"I. Don't. Know." Ada ground out through her teeth. She was getting very sick of her new partner, and Wesker's computer had her just as annoyed.

It would turn on and display a blue screen with various characters. She knew whatever the problem was, it was most likely spelled out clear as day- but she was clueless with computer language. Not exactly the best position to be in for those in the trade of espionage, but combat training had always been more important... Nevertheless, the few tricks she knew weren't working. This meant they had to find a professional- fast. She was starting to wonder if leaving it at the BSAA camp and waiting wouldn't have been a better idea- too late now.

"This isn't going to get us anywhere. We need a technician," Ada informed her Russian companion, who cursed in response.

"Where are we going to find someone like that?"

"You make it sound impossible. I see why I'm here now; you wouldn't get anything done on your own." Her partner sputtered dumbly, as though a thousand curses were on his tongue and he was having trouble picking one. Ada pulled out her phone and dialed a quick number.

"Just leave it to me," she told Nicholai sternly. She suddenly turned back to her phone, "Cam, darling- I need to ask a favor."

* * *

Wesker had shredded the entire complex apart in search of surveillance devices, but found nothing. While he did that, Claire had the opportunity to use the facilities and clean herself up.

She relished her shower for the duration of the hot water, breathing in the steam and for a moment forgetting where she was. Grime swept off her body and swirled around the drain before vanishing forever. It wasn't long before the water at her feet ran clean.

Shortly after that, the water began to grow cold, and Claire knew her small luxury was coming to an end. With a resigned sigh, she shut the water off and reached for a towel. Wrapping herself and stepping out onto the cold linoleum, she noticed her clothes, originally discarded on the floor, were nowhere to be found. Another, folded, pile of of clothes was resting on the counter next to the mirror.

Claire gulped. Wesker had entered the bathroom? While she was _naked_? And she hadn't even noticed! ?

She was trembling now, and she didn't fully understand why. Wesker wasn't planning on hurting her- at least not yet. He needed her, more or less. But him just barging in like that; not only had she been defenseless, but completely unaware. The thought that he could get so close to her left her feeling shaken, and that much less secure.

Not that she'd really felt safe anyway; his random and unwarranted tantrums certainly sparked fear within her. She supposed the idea that she wasn't safe while he was in his right mind hadn't really reached her.

She gave herself a few moments to recompose, and then dressed.

Until she caught herself in the mirror.

"W- woah..."

She touched her side. There was nothing there- no scar, no discoloration; not so much as a bruise.

"But how..?" She was puzzled, and wondered if Wesker had noticed. Most certainly he would have; she couldn't imagine it escaping his attention.

She finished dressing and left the bathroom, resolved to discover what else he was keeping from her.

When she entered the kitchen, it was empty, save for a great deal of food sitting on the table. With her cleanliness, her appetite had returned, and she sat and scarfed down nearly a plate and a half of eggs, toast, and sausage before stopping herself. At this rate she was going to barf, and she knew it.

Setting her fork down, she looked in the living room. There was no sign of Wesker anywhere.

_The bedroom?_ She thought briefly. It was quite possible, but if that was the case she wasn't going in there. Her resolve could wait until he came out of his own accord; she didn't need to make him angry, and she wasn't in much of a rush to see him anyway.

Instead she opted to see what television had to offer in Africa.

Flipping through the stations, one caught her attention and she paused. It was the news- local, from what she could tell. The anchor was speaking in some local dialect.

What had her hooked, however, was the BSAA logo appearing next to the newsman's head. Claire desperately wished she understood what he was saying.

The screen then cut out and flashed to video from the Associated Press, depicting President Miller standing behind a podium. He was saying something, and Claire strained herself to hear what it was through the translator's voice-over.

"The American people have voiced their concern, and we've been listening. And to our foreign comrades, we've heard your pleas for help, and have taken action. Given the promising figures released by the BSAA, we're confident that this crisis will cease to be a problem in the near future. Thank you."

The president nodded and walked away, ignoring the blend of voices erupting from the many reporters in the audience. Claire snorted. She'd never been fond of President Miller- _certainly_ had not voted for him- and considered most of what he'd said nothing more than an attempt to hose the political fire he must be under.

Drawing her own conclusions from what he'd said, she was starting to piece a picture together of the state of the world, and it didn't sound pretty. She'd have to remember to inquire about that as well, when it was appropriate, of course.

As if on cue, she heard the bedroom door creak and the solid tap of Wesker's boots on the floor. Her heart skipped a beat but other than that gave no reaction.

"Finished?" he asked her simply.

She nodded, realizing he meant the food. He walked over and threw out the remainder, and Claire found herself staring at him. He was doing basic housework- something she shouldn't have found so odd, except that it was _Wesker_. Her situation felt so surreal.

She realized this was an opportune time to ask him some more questions- his temper appeared relaxed, somewhat, and he was being civil.

"This outbreak- what's it about?" She half expected him to skirt the question, and was surprised when he answered.

"Uroboros. It's been leaked globally."

"By Alex."

He didn't answer. She took his silence as an affirmation.

"What about my wound?"

"What about it?"

"It's healed."

"If you find good health so distasteful, Miss Redfield, I can certainly fix that for you."

She brushed off his slight. "Why did I heal so quickly? It looks like nothing happened... And my ankle too. What's going on?"

Wesker had been waiting for this. "Nothing. You merely healed quickly."

What- no sarcasm? No dark jokes? Claire narrowed her eyes. He wasn't telling her something. His questions hadn't phased him- his answer had come swiftly, as though he'd been prepared.

She found it incredibly hard to believe that she had simply 'healed quickly'. She'd been dirty and ill-fed; not to mention the fact that she had been unwisely mobile given her ankle at the time, which could have only served in making it worse.

What's more, it was only after Wesker had injured her that her ankle had begun to heal.

Once that fact occurred to her, everything clicked.

And her mouth opened in slow horror.

"No..."

Wesker turned to face her. Her expression made him grimace; her realization meant nothing but trouble for him.

He quickly entered the bedroom, exiting again with a syringe in one gloved hand.

Claire, shaking herself from her stupor, saw Wesker approaching fast.

"What are you doing?" She asked, panicked. She scooted herself down the couch until she met the arm. "Get away. Get _back_!"

It was too late. The now familiar prick of the needle met her neck, and the last thing she remembered as the world started to disappear was Wesker carrying her into the bedroom and resting her on the bed. He left, closing the door behind him, and in her final moments of clarity could not tell if the darkness had occurred before, or because, the light was gone.

**Six pages in word- Yay! You can tell I missed writing...**

**Poor Chris- I've noticed a lot of people don't like him very much... I suppose the fact is true of any Wesker fan, really... But anyway, I figured no one would mind if I gave him a hard time, so yeah... Bombs. Yay.**

**FUN FACT: The director of Sheva's BSAA Africa camp, Tyler Fisk, was named after the vice principle of my school. Dunno why. Just figured I'd make use of a random name I know, since I suck at making them up. Seriously; all of the names of my future children come from anime(s?) I watch. Well, almost all of them.**

**-Saya**

**-Hagi**

**-Saito**

**-Achlys**

**-Aurora**

**Cookies to whoever can guess where I got each of these names!**


	29. Chapter 29

**Another fun fact! If you see the word TAM in all caps, it's because that's what I use to separate sections in word, and forgot to replace it with a bar. The reason I use TAM is because that was the song I was listening to when I typed the first chapter, and it just sorta... stuck. (TAM by Origa if anyone's interested in looking it up~)**

**Oh yeah- WARNING: Lotsa little tiny sections. But I figured it was about time something started happening.**

"Yes, yes. He's _here_. _Right now_. Now do something before he _kills_ me!" Sabastion whispered harshly into the other line. He waited for a response before realizing the line had been disconnected.

He hadn't seen the eyes watching him from the tree outside.

* * *

"We got him," Nicholai stood.

"What? What are you talking ab-" her phone's beep interrupted her. She checked her message.

_Nikita : TARGET'S CURRENT LOCATION_

Attached to the message was a map, with a small area circled.

"We've got to move. There's no way to tell how long he'll be there," the Russian pocketed his phone. "What do we do with that?"

He was gesturing to the laptop. Ada thought on this for a moment.

"You get us a car- I'll worry about the computer," she assured. "We'll meet up at the docks in an hour."

"Where at the docks?"

"Don't worry; just look for the gorgeous woman in the red dress," Ada replied, grabbing the computer and heading out the door. Nicholai narrowed his eyes before heading his own way.

* * *

_Uh-oh. Uncle Albert won't be happy..._

These were Sherry's thoughts as she scurried across the various rooftops of the shabby settlement. It was dusk and growing darker, but this only served to give her more cover as she instinctively located Wesker.

None of the windows were open, but that didn't matter much. She let herself hang upside-down from the roof, her feet hooking onto the rain gutter, allowing her head to dangle in front of what she assumed was the bathroom window.

She pressed her hand to the approximate location of the lock and concentrated intently. Her resolve was rewarded when she heard a dull click on the other side. She then pushed the window up, and crawled in carefully.

She landed on the floor and looked up, seeing what must have been a fairly surprised Wesker, though his face betrayed nothing. He appeared to be disposing of something- though she couldn't exactly tell what it was.

"Sherry..." Wesker began, sounding almost complacent. He should have known.

"Look, I know what you told me, but you're going to be really glad I didn't listen to you this time, I swear."

"Is that so?"

"That guy you were with earlier- the one who brought you out here?"

"What about him?"

"I just heard him on the phone. He was telling someone you were here."

"Who?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. They were using a voice distorter from what I could tell."

"Hmm..." If someone was interested in him, it was probably bad. Given the type of people Sabastion was known to associate with only served to reinforce the idea.

Wesker's mind wandered from the incapacitated Claire in the next room, to Sherry beside him, and then to Alex in Brazil. Everything seemed to lead to one conclusion; he'd be visiting S very soon.

"Sherry; there's something very important you have to do for me."

"Anything."

"Contact Alex. Tell him to have you picked up."

"What! ? I'm not leaving yet! Not without you!"

"Calm yourself. You aren't returning alone." Sherry's face seemed to relax.

"Does it matter where?"

"These coordinates," he pulled a pen from the small bag at his feet and tore a piece of paper form a notebook. Sherry watched as he wrote down some numbers on a slip of paper, and took them when offered , " You're going to be taking Miss Redfield with you."

The young woman's eyes darkened immediately. "I'm here to help you. Not her."

"At the moment she is invaluable. If you are as loyal as you claim, you will do as I ask."

She gazed sourly at the floor. "Fine."

"We will rendezvous there," he nodded at the paper in her hand, "Do not leave until I arrive. And _no one is to know._" He stressed the last few words, feeling it imperative that she understand. He watched her nod slowly before continuing. "You need to leave, quickly. If what you say is true, then I imagine things are about to get messy."

"Messy how?"

"Never you mind. Get Claire." He turned back to the sink and began working quickly. Sherry stood for a moment, but after receiving a warning look from Wesker she scurried into the hall.

Claire's scent was prominent, even through the layers of drywall and plywood. She opened the bedroom door and stepped inside. Claire was asleep on the bed.

"Hey- wake up." She nudged Claire's foot. No response. "Come on; _move_." She gave a solid nudge to the woman's leg, to no avail.

"Get _up_," she growled, grabbing her by the shoulders and pulling her into a sitting position. Claire's head simply lolled to the side and registered nothing.

"You failed to mention she was unconscious!" Sherry called bitterly to her uncle, heaving the woman over her shoulder and grunting under the weight. Wesker didn't respond. Sherry headed for the front door, her hand on the knob when his voice returned.

"And Sherry,"she half turned, glimpsing part of his figure from the corner of her eye, "She is not to be harmed."

Rolling her eyes in annoyance, Sherry tugged the door open and left without a word.

* * *

Ada reached the drop in surprising time, considering she'd been on foot; red-pump clad foot, to be exact. She had the computer snugly under her arm as she weaved her way over and around debris which had collected after years of neglect. She was in the warehouse district of- where the hell was she again? She peeked at her phone. Some place called Mopti.

She'd been to hell and back trying to hunt down Wesker, and with geography having not been her strongest suit found herself completely turned around.

A small brick building stood apart from the surrounding structures, it's dull grey less vibrant than the rusting sheet metal everywhere else.

She had to kick in the door- the hinges had rusted over –but other than that met no resistance upon her intrusion. Placing the laptop on a dirty counter top, the only thing that hadn't been ransacked, she dialed Cam.

"It's waiting for you. Have your man come by any time." She didn't wait for his response- she was in a crunch for time as it was. Leaving the computer behind, she turned and ran north toward the river.

* * *

Now that his work was done, Leon was among those being assigned to various foreign locations in order to help out. Not that he was certain it was the best idea.

Certainly he'd dealt with bio-hazards before, but he'd never encountered Uroboros. Sure, he'd been in the exact same position before, on multiple occasions, but he couldn't help feeling as though he were tempting fate.

He pondered this temporarily as he boarded the jet. No. He wouldn't die. There was work to be done; he'd see to it that all existing remnants of Umbrella were destroyed, for good.

* * *

Wesker took a deep breath. He could already hear the men shouting outside, panicked. He knew what was about to happen.

He wasn't concerned with them per se, but what was to follow them. Having Sherry take Claire lifted much of his burden, but he still had one more problem.

When the helicopters overhead roared, Wesker's fears were affirmed. Whomever Sabastion had talked to meant business.

* * *

Ada had hitched a ride from a very grabby man, less than favorable, but it got her to the dock quicker than running would.

"Thanks," she said passively to the driver, pushing open the creaky door.

"Hold on a moment, honey," the man said through his Swahili accent. He reached out and only managed to brush her arm when the butt end of a combat knife met with his nose.

"Gack-!" he sputtered. The blood flowed quickly and freely.

"Sorry, handsome," she wiped her knife off on his car seat, "I've got a prior engagement."

She slammed his door shut and looked around. Where was Nicholai? If he hadn't found a car by now, he was more worthless than she'd originally pegged him for.

As if reading her thoughts, his gruff voice came from beside her, "Now don't blame me because _you _made us late."

"Wouldn't dream of it," she said sweetly masking her mild disgust. She'd dealt with all sorts of men before, but there was something about her partner that made her on edge. She didn't like him, and most certainly didn't trust him.

He'd got his hands on a silver Carerra- she didn't want to ask where he found it, but did notice that he'd hot wired the thing. He'd been in such a hurry that he peeled out of the lot before her feet were completely in the vehicle. He'd sent fishermen and passengers alike scattering, and earned a glare from Ada.

They were weaving through people, buildings, other cars- heading for the Route Nationale to the east. Beyond that was her former employer. Ada suddenly felt uneasy.

**This is what my English teacher would call the 'rising action'. See? I did learn something from school!**

**Next week; Sherry's trials in lugging Claire around! Stay tuned~!**

**Also I just realized I've been spelling Sabastion wrong...**

**Oh well. We'll call it creative license and move on.  
**

**Misamurai-san out.**


	30. Chapter 30

**CHAPTER 30! Yay~**

**Reading chapter 29 made me want to pull my hair out. Especially with Leon's section. But I'll just grit my teeth and trudge forward. I do plan on re-writing this story (in other words, completely overhauling it), a sentiment I believe I've expressed to you already. I just figured I'd acknowledge that most of you probably aren't up to re-reading the 'to be rewritten' sections; given that fact, I apologize that the story isn't as high quality now as I intend on making it in the future.**

"Damnit; I didn't think I was still _this_ weak. Or maybe you're just really fat," Sherry muttered to the unconscious Claire. She was hiking through a forested area only a few hundred feet from the camp. She'd heard the shouting of men, and the helicopters; it was taking her entire resolve to keep herself from dropping Claire right here and running back to Wesker.

She had to believe that he could handle this himself. What right did she have to question him?

She shrugged, adjusting the woman's weight to a more comfortable position. Throwing her head to the side, a hands-free attempt at getting her bangs out of her face, she heard an explosion which shook the ground and left ringing in her sensitive ears.

It seemed unnaturally quiet for a few seconds as Sherry recovered from the shock. When the shouting voices and humming helicopters once again reached her, she sucked in a deep breath and trudged forward.

She simply couldn't look back.

* * *

"What the hell happened! ?" Ada jumped out of the car and ran toward the rising smoke, her partner hot on her heels.

Through the double-doors, down the massive hall, through a side door and around the kitchen, they finally found an exit leading into the courtyard.

The sight they witnessed stopped them in their tracks.

Some men were dead; others were cowering under cover. Just at the far end of the courtyard Ada saw the twisted remnants of a helicopter sticking out of the side of one of the buildings. There were three aircraft remaining, hovering over the site firing gatling guns in the center of the enclosure.

Ada followed their aim, her eyes finally landing on the distorted features of Albert Wesker.

_There. It's there. _What was where? Wesker couldn't make sense of his own thoughts as he fought off the barrage of projectiles raining down on him. His body was pulling him toward the forest.

_It's there._ He ignored himself, swiping at one man and impaling another. A loud _crack!_ sounded from above his head. He shielded himself as a rocket went off beside him. He turned to the source of the trouble; another helicopter. He shot his arm toward it, gripping it tightly and sending it to the ground.

It landed in a terrifying crash, and Ada and Nicholai quickly spun back inside and out of sight.

"We need tools," he stated, and ran off back the way they'd come. Ada merely stood, unable to remove her eyes from the black fleshy mass encasing Wesker. It was somewhat jarring; she hadn't seen uroboros in person- only pictures. Seeing someone as composed and controlling as Albert Wesker in such a state had her in a completely confused.

He roared angrily, tearing the blades of the chopper away by the mast and hurling it at any random enemy. Ada ducked down as the rotor lodged itself into the section of wall across the doorway from her. His tactics were erratic and not very well thought-out. It's possible she could find an opening and take him out.

It occurred to her suddenly that during her entire hunt, not once had she considered bringing Wesker back alive. She peeked out again, pondering this. She had been so sure that he would have been ready for them, she and Nicholai. On top of everything like he always was, if they somehow managed to catch up to him, it would only be because he'd allowed it. He'd be prepared; getting past his strength, speed,and agility alone, they would have still been met with strategic superiority and cunning. It was an uphill battle from every perspective.

But no; it looked like this was a genuine blunder. Albert Wesker had been outdone- by himself. If they could find some way to contain his bodily strength, then then the battle would be half over. He was nothing more than a ghost of who he had once been.

Ada wasn't sure how she felt about that.

Certainly, she disliked the man. He'd forced her into some dangerous and foreign situations without regard for anything apart from his goals. Of course, what else had she expected?

She could say in a nutshell that Albert Wesker represented everything that was wrong with mankind. In that light, killing him could be a metaphor for the destruction of all of man's vices.

But that was irrelevant, she realized. She'd been so engrossed in her own thoughts she found herself veering away from the problem at hand. She was an agent. He was a target. She knew what her job was.

She stood and moved swiftly down the corridor in pursuit of Nicholai.

* * *

Claire grunted uncomfortably. She'd fallen asleep on the world's lumpiest mattress, it seemed. But her hair flying madly around her head and the cold air on her skin betrayed a different story.

When she finally dared to peek her eyes open, she saw a mass of blond strands whirling about and realized her hair wasn't the only hair she'd accidentally been eating.

"Sherry?" her surprised voice came out resembling that of a frog. Sherry didn't appear to register- Claire was a little surprised to see that she was running. She seemed to be concentrating very hard on something. Claire felt a little more than awkward, bouncing on the smaller woman's shoulders like a giant sack of meat.

"Where's Wesker?" Claire asked, a little bit louder. Sherry came out of her fog and slowed to a stop, dropping Claire into the dirt. She grunted at the impact but did her best to stifle it.

"You're awake. Good; you can carry your own weight now."

"What's happen-"

"Get up. We need to move."

Sherry gave her an impatient look; Claire tried getting to her feet, but the struggle was too much and she collapsed again.

Sherry sighed, "Lovely." She hoisted her up and practically dragged her through the remaining trees and into a clearing. When she let go, however, Claire discovered that she could stand on her own.

Sherry frowned- Claire's recovery had been made in a matter of seconds. She was now focused and alert. Then she realized something- that pull. She could feel it. It was Uncle Wesker's presence!

But wait... there was something altered about it. It was Wesker, and it wasn't at the same time. She couldn't puzzle it out; it was so strong she could almost smell it, and yet, there was no one around.

Except Claire.

Sherry peered at her intently, making her nervous.

"What?"

"Let me see your hand."

"My what?"

"Hand._ Now_."

Claire held it out tentatively as Sherry approached. In a shocking show of speed, Sherry slipped out a knife and made a clean cut in the palm of Claire's hand.

"Ow!" Claire yelled, trying to pull her injured extremity away, but Sherry simply held tighter, smelling the blood trickling out slowly and contemplating what it meant.

"You've been infected." It wasn't a question.

The words made Claire's mind shoot back to the last time she'd been awake. Was she? No; that was impossible. There was no way. Not her.

Claire shook her head.

"Yes, you are. Don't lie to me," Sherry practically growled. "Why? Why did he infect you?"

"He _didn't_!" Claire shrieked back. "I'm not- I'm not..." her words faded away. She pulled her hand back and cradled it, refusing to look at Sherry or anything else.

Sherry looked for a moment, a flare of pity rising in her chest before she buried it again. "Whatever," she shrugged. She pulled out a phone and dialed Alex.

* * *

They were ready. More or less.

There had been an arsenal hidden beneath the stairs- Nicholai had bullied one of the men who worked here into telling him about it.

He had covered himself from head-to-toe in anything that would fit. Ada had to wonder how he'd accomplish anything so drowned in combat gear, but figured it was his prerogative. As for her, a semi-auto rifle would suffice. She had her knife and handgun if things got a little too close for comfort, but other than that she had every intention of keeping her distance.

Her partner felt that blitzing Wesker was the best course of action; she couldn't wait to see him try it. Her unique knowledge of their enemy made her feel slightly superior to her partner, and slightly less optimistic all at the same time. In spite of his weakened state, this would still prove a daunting task.

Ada made her way to the roof; the rounds bounced in a small pouch against her thigh, reminding her of what she was about to do.

Her plan was this- let Nicholai make a fool of himself and slowly chip away at Wesker while he was distracted. It seemed like the best way to handle the situation. She just prayed her partner could hold out that long.

Setting herself up in the best location she could find, she got to her stomach and peered through the scope. Nicholai had already started.

"Men are so impatient," Ada sighed, finding Wesker and waiting for the best moment.

Nicholai rolled out of the way as one of Wesker's massive arms came down beside him. The ground shook. He pulled out a grenade and rolled it beneath Wesker's feet. The blond adversary had noticed, however, chucked it right back.

"_Shit_," he spat, running out of the way. He'd avoided the small rubber balls erupting from the weapon, but the energy released from the explosion knocked him to the dirt. He pulled out a magnum and took aim as he grunted to his feet, doing his best to keep Wesker at bay.

Some of the men from the compound were collecting at one corner of the yard, propping up a javelin missile and preparing to fire.

Nicholai figured playing the role of mouse until they could get a clean shot wasn't a bad way to go, so he ran a straight line down the center of the yard, beckoning Wesker to follow.

Wesker barreled toward his opponent intent upon crushing the man beneath his hands, when a large amount of shouting met his ears. He turned to see a number of soldiers fiddling with a missile launcher. He moved to stop them, but the weapon fired and the best he could manage was to duck out of the way.

Nicholai whipped around suddenly, surprised to se that Wesker was further away then he last remembered. Then he noticed the javelin speeding his way.

He gritted his teeth and ran to the side, succeeding only in missing the brunt of the explosion as he was lifted into the air and brought down hard into the ground. He raised his head dazedly, but couldn't keep his eyes open. He was knocked out before his head touched the dirt.

Ada cursed under her breath. Without Nicholai she couldn't do this- it was impossible. Retreating silently, she backed away and out of sight as Wesker dealt with the few remaining men.

_It's there. Go; now._ He was thinking this to himself as the last man fell,dead. There was no point in staying here, so he decided to listen to his curious demand.

He still wasn't sure what he was referring to, but the lack of immediate danger allowed him to slowly mold to his regular form.

He could feel something inside, willing him into the forest- he figured it must be the girls. He looked down; his clothes were tattered and too revealing for his tastes. Sighing in resignation, he pulled the trousers off of one of the soldiers and fit them on. They were a little short and too large around the waist, but they served their purpose.

He then checked his body for wounds, but there were none that warranted much concern. He gazed into the forest, thinking beyond his own comprehension. Why did he feel like he had a second mind? It was slightly annoying.

He shook off the sensation and trekked forward, in search of Sherry and Claire.

**Hmm... I can't help but think at this one. I'm not sure how I feel about it. Tell me what you think- maybe I'll change it up a bit.**

**Okay- Chris is going in the next one. And Jill. Don't ask why; just go with it. It all leads to something very important. That I possibly might not get to until the sequel.**

**But when I think about it the only place I can imagine it fitting would be here... Maybe if I actually figured out what I'm doing for the sequel it would help... Of course, I'm still trying to figure out what the hell I'm doing for Unhinged, so don't hold me to that.**

**SPEAKING OF THAT~ I finally figured out a major plot element that ties everything up a little better. I mean, I suppose I've been hinting at it thus far but I haven't exactly figured out to WHAT I'm hinting. Until now. So... yeah. YAY FOR PLOTS!**

**Also, if you haven't noticed I've been trying to update every Sunday. Wish me luck with that~! (It might help if I didn't wait until eleven o'clock on said Sunday to start writing...)  
**

**Oh... and I've been neglecting my experiment.**

**REVIEW~!**


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